


My Hands Say I Love You, Write it on Your Skin.

by RainGirl696



Series: I Wrote it on my Skin [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - School, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anal Sex, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, BAMF Phil Coulson, Body Worship, Clint Has Issues, Clint Needs a Hug, Come play, D/s, D/s undertones, Deaf Clint Barton, Eventual Smut, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food Trucks, Hand Feeding, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Marijuana Use, Masturbation, Mention of past emotional abuse between Original characters, Misunderstandings, Music Teacher Clint, Mutual Pining, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Parent Phil Coulson, Pet Rats, Phil Needs a Hug, Realy freakin smart rats, Sign Language, Smoking Kink, Sorry Not Sorry, Tattoo artist Phil Coulson, Teacher Clint Barton, lucky - Freeform, smoking kink got out of hand! Oops.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 58,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainGirl696/pseuds/RainGirl696
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"An old tattoo artist." His own words echoed in his head. How did he even get here? A tattoo artist at the age of 42. Doing a job meant to be done by a 20-something-year-old stud, in a too-tight wife beater and baggy jeans barely hanging on his hips with a goatee. Not a middle aged man in slacks and a tie, clean shaven with a tidy hair cut.</p>
<p>The series  where apearance are decieving. Deaf music teacher Clint learns to trust. Tattoo artist Phil learns to rely on others, and the language of love is universal.</p>
<p>Writing 5 chapters ahead.  Expect weekly updates minimum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nobody Likes Anchovies

**Author's Note:**

> First, a very special thanks to my beta, she knows who she is. This story would not have happened with out her. 
> 
> This is my first real story I've written, so i could really use some good feed back and love to keep me going.
> 
> I have the first 7 chapters written currently 20,000 words. Ch2 will be up very soon,and after that I aim for weekly updates. Write a chapter, post a chapter sort of thing. 
> 
> I do have a beta, she proofs each chapter as I post but I have the final check. So I take blame for any grammatical errors. 
> 
> I am looking for a second beta, if you would like to volunteer let me know in the reviews. This will speed up updates. 
> 
> I can be bribed in to speedier updates by way of reviews ;)
> 
> Some tags will be added as they become relevant to the story. But I foresee nothing too bad. 
> 
> Now read and enjoy...then review.
> 
> *Update* 12-4-15
> 
> A gigantic thank you to my new Beta Lillyjk. She has done an amazing job at Beta, even rechecking the already posted chapters (the re-edited versions are going up tonight.) Korean tacos for Lillyjk! 
> 
>  
> 
> Expect updates once a week.
> 
> If any of my facts are wrong or offensive, I'm sorry, please let me know.
> 
> Now read, review, and enjoy.

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/title_zpsk7lnlg1q.jpg.html)

Chapter 1  
No one likes anchovies

 

Phil shifted uncomfortably in the cheap rolling desk chair Fury had in his office for guests. He knew for a fact it had been heavily discounted at the mom and pop office supply store a few blocks over several years ago, when S.H.I.E.L.D had its first year in the black. For that reason, the hideous puce color, (though it may have been yellow once upon a time), the mass amount of blue duct tape holding it together, and the fact a rock would probably be more comfortable, were all forgiven, at least by Fury. It may have been intentional on Fury's part, as a way to deter prolonged visitation of the guests it gave the illusion of inviting. 

But not Phil, nothing deterred Phil. Fury knew this. 

Phil shifted again, favoring to lean sideways on his left elbow against Fury's desk. Phil concentrated hard on devouring his hour old, tough Chow Mein, with questionable chicken, as Fury lectured Phil on finding a mate or at least getting laid. This would make the third, no, fourth, no maybe fifth time this month. 

"...and my Grandma’s penis ejaculates purple semen" Fury said, matter-of-factly with a stoic face as only he could do. 

"Mmhmm, yes, you're absolutely right." Phil replied, while studying a piece of what claimed to be chicken, though looked suspiciously like cat. Unfortunately Phil knew what cooked cat looked like. More unfortunately, he knew what it tasted like (he could thank his years in the Army Rangers for that.) Most unfortunately, there was only one way to be sure. Down the hatch it went. 

To his pleasant surprise it was not cat, just God awful chicken. Thank God for small mercies. At least, he would if he was sure one existed. 

"Cheese!"

Phil's head shot up at the sound of the one nickname that made four-eyes sound like a compliment. He left what was most likely mutated chicken forgotten. 

"I think the chicken might be cat. Or it used to be cat and was genetically modified to chicken. So much for no MSG and GMOs. "

"You haven't heard a word I said, have you?" Fury stated, with his trademarked one-eyed glare. 

"No. Though I am sorry to hear about your Grandmother." Phil stated with his own trademarked 'agent face'. Phil was slightly relieved he still had mastery over that emotionless mask after all these years. "But I'd bet my favorite tattoo machine it was the same thing you said the other however many times you gave me this lecture this month." 

"Phil, if you keep going the way you’re going, you’re going to look like you stole the left arm off a bodybuilder. " They both said in unison, as though it was rehearsed like a gospel song going out of style. 

"Seems to me like you heard this before. Also seems to me that someone who has heard it more times than Taylor Swift's latest rendition of a break up song on the radio would have done something about it by now. " Fury declared, arching a brow at Phil. 

Phil arched a brow back. "I have. I went on a date with that cellist's brother last month in Portland after the convention. Mark? No. Mathew. Wait. No. Yes!...No! Mikey! Anyway he ended it by thanking me for a lovely dinner but apologized for not having a ‘daddy kink’.” Phil sighed and abandoned the science project that was supposed to be their lunch, however late, on the edge of the desk. Phil wasn't in the mood for intestinal parasites or food poisoning today anyway. 

"Face it, who wants to fuck, let alone date, an old man with a receding hairline? With the exception of those with a daddy kink. Which, at this point I think I could do actually. Welcome to reality, there's not many fish left in my sea. Or there are, and I'm just an anchovy and no one likes those,” Phil said completely deadpan. Only Fury could tell how defeated he really felt. 

"Old? Yes. Balding? Yes. But you’re forgetting you’re also a tattoo artist. Tattoo artists are hot. At least that's what the tattoo groupies think. Hell, there's more of them then damn fish in the sea. Unless you want to fuck a fish. I won't judge, but I would rethink our friendship." Fury finished his rant with the tiniest hint of a satisfied smirk. 

Phil was unimpressed and responded with, "Old tattoo artists do not have groupies." 

"If you’re old, what am I?" 

"An old bastard." 

"A gorgeous old bastard." Fury corrected. 

Phil turned to look in the mirror on the wall to his right. The one his oldest friend said was for inappropriate or dick art (Nick's own words) to be viewed in private. Though Phil had his doubts. 

"An old tattoo artist." His own words echoed in his head. How did he even get here? A tattoo artist at the age of 42. Doing a job meant to be done by a 20-something-year-old stud, in a too-tight wife beater and baggy jeans barely hanging on his hips with a goatee. Not a middle aged man in slacks and a tie, clean shaven with a tidy hair cut. Phil fiddled with his cross hairs tie clip. He never could shake some habits after his years with S.W.A.T. Even after his epic failure. 

Phil frowned slightly. He knew how he got here. It was all Nick Fury's fault. It always was although a part of him couldn't find it in himself to mind. Maybe more of a part than he'd really like to admit. Even to himself. 

It was after almost 2 years of art school. After almost 8 years in the Rangers where he met Nick. After giving 5 good years as SWAT captain, Fury had already made it to police chief. After the incident that ruined Phil for the team. After he... No, he wouldn't think about it. Not now. At least, not without a good stiff scotch in his hand and the bottle for back up. 

After all that, in 2003 Nick Fury opened the doors of S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury's very own tattoo shop. (He said he left his high position because he was "too old for that shit"). Of course, he offered the first position to be filled to Phil. He said he still needed his "one good eye." It was as Nick’s apprentice, though only for a year or so, for technicalities and legalities he said. Though this was nothing new to them. 

Nick was a few years older than Phil and had been a tattoo artist since he was 19. He had started his apprenticeship young as a way to get out of a bad home situation. Even a few years later, after he felt the call to serve his country (just as Phil had in the middle of art school) he still kept tattooing all throughout his years in the Rangers and Chicago PD. He pushed himself and excelled in tattooing just as he had in the army. He even taught Phil. As the years went on, Phil's skills flourished under Fury's tutelage. Fury slowly handed the torch of main tattoo artist, and somewhat manager to Phil, as he focused more on the business matters. That worked well for them. That's how he got here. 

They later added others including Bucky Barnes, and Melinda May as artists. Both veterans, though it wasn't planned that way. It just happened that's who Fury attracted. Even the receptionist, though not a vet, was a Navy brat. 

"Yo! Agent K! Got one for you!" Speak of the devil. Darcy's shrill voice rang out through the shop, through the slightly ajar door of the office and right into his ears. Phil suspected he would be hearing ringing for the rest of the evening.

Darcy Lewis was their receptionist and piercer. Not someone he would ever refer to as a gentle soul. Her favorite, and well used taser could attest to that. She was a spirited young woman, that's for sure. And that's just how they liked it at S.H.I.E.L.D. Phil stood with a sigh. He needed to stop that, it made him feel so pathetic. He moved to open the door, but stopped at the sound of Fury's voice.

"Loosen your tie! Open the top couple buttons! And for crying out loud, roll up you damn sleeves and show some ink! Maybe if you look less like an undertaker and more like an artist, they'll actually stick around."

Phil snorted, rolled his eyes and stepped out. As he walked to front desk where his 17:00 appointment waited, the sight that met his eyes stopped him dead in his tracks. 

Never had he seen a more gorgeous man in his life. Dark blonde hair, blue eyes that would make the clearest waters in the Caribbean jealous, and his arms. Oh, those glorious arms. What it would feel like to be wrapped...No, not here. Not now. 

Phil was in trouble. His pants felt a bit too tight suddenly and it had nothing to do with ordering take out for dinner all week. Time for 'agent face.' 

"Phil Coulson. You two must be my 5:00." He greeted them simply. 

"I'm Natasha, this is Clint. We're here to get the matching hands." The red headed woman next to the Adonis spoke. Phil hadn't noticed her until then, but she was just as gorgeous. She eyed him critically. Though to be fair, he had barely taken his eyes off the man with a god-like figure yet. 

The man gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement and a smile. Oh, that smile, or was it a smirk? Whatever it was, Phil felt it in his bones, and his groin. Even better, because according to the man's companion Phil will get to ink him, mark him. That fact both excited and terrified him.

He was in so much trouble. But at the moment, he really couldn't find it in himself to care.


	2. Bad Habbits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Update 12-4-15*
> 
> A gigantic thank you to my new Beta Lillyjk. She has done an amazing job at Beta, even rechecking the already posted chapters (the re-edited versions are going up tonight.) Korean tacos for Lillyjk! 
> 
>  
> 
> Expect updates once a week.
> 
> If any of my facts are wrong or offensive, I'm sorry, please let me know.
> 
> Now read, review, and enjoy

Chapter 2  
Bad habits 

Clint walked up the sidewalk and stopped outside the tattoo shop. S.H.I.E.L.D came highly recommended by a fellow teacher that he and Natasha worked with. Steve's best friend Bucky was an artist here, though he wasn't the artist Steve had recommended. No, they had an appointment with a guy named Phil. He was probably 300 pounds, with a shaved head and full beard, a face full of metal and two full sleeves of tattoos. But Steve swore this guy would do justice to the work they wanted; he had better for what they had been quoted. 

The exterior of the shop was surprisingly clean, simple and modern. All the windows were covered in opaque back decals with gold lettering, and a geometric gold eagle off to the left of the door. 

It was Nat's hand on his shoulder that brought him back from his musings. He looked right at her as she spoke. "Cold feet? We don't have to do this. It's not like we'd ever forget."

Clint scoffed as he opened the door and held it for her. "Hell no! I'm just wondering how fat our artist is and how far his ears are gauged, so we can bet on it." 

Natasha rolled her eyes as she stepped through the door, followed by Clint. 

Inside it looked just like any other tattoo shop. Or at least, like the ones Clint had seen on TV. Granted, it was much nicer than he had expected; all clean modern lines and no clutter, even at the front desk. 

They were welcomed by a young woman with dark curly hair in black framed glasses and a sweatshirt sporting what appeared to be a band logo. "Hi, welcome to ‘Safe Hands Ideally Etching Lucent Designs.’ I'm Darcy, pick your poison.” She drawled unenthusiastically. 

Clint leaned on the counter and gave Darcy the most charming smile he could muster. "Hi Darcy. Clint and Natasha for 5:00 with Phil. " He tried to keep his voice as even and smooth as possible. 

Darcy nodded once and smiled, just before she made a whole-hearted attempt at bursting the eardrums of every person in a ten mile radius. "Yo! Agent K! Got one for you!" Even Clint flinched thought Natasha was completely unaffected. No surprise there. 

After a brief moment, a man stepped out from behind a mostly closed door of a small back room with its windows blacked out. To say this man was handsome would be the understatement of the century. He looked as out of place as a gay man at the Mormon Tabernacle. He was average height, probably not much taller than Clint himself. He wore charcoal grey slacks, and a pale blue striped button up shirt that only served to bring out the sky blue of his eyes. The look was completed with a navy tie. Oh, that tie! What Clint wouldn't give to hold that tie tight while the mysterious man plowed into him. 

He looked more like a school principal than a tattoo artist. Clint would definitely support corporal punishment if this guy was enforcing it. His mind wandered to being bent over a desk with his pants around his knees and...Clint couldn't help the smirk that crawled over his features. 

Baseball, grading tests, picking up Lucky's poop during a walk. Clint thought of everything he could to reduce the rapid tightening in his already too tight jeans. He decided to shift just a bit closer to the front desk. A move which didn't go unnoticed by Nat, judging by the raised eyebrow she shot in his direction. But Clint as she shifted her attention to the mysterious man her expression changed to a critical one. 

Oh shit! Is someone talking? Oh hot teacher said something. Oh shit! Nat's saying something! He looked at her just in time to catch her response to whatever the blue eyed boy scout said. "Steve didn't mention Principal Belding would be doing our tattoos." 

“It’s Phil actually, but you already know that since you did ask for me.” The corner of Phil's mouth twitched up. "We do recommend you meet your artist and view his or her portfolio before booking an appointment." He said, while motioning to a giant black binder with his name scrawled across the cover in elegant silver calligraphy. 

"Take a moment if you like, you do have the option of canceling, whether to book with another artist or find another shop more to your liking. Though I must inform you, you will be charged for holding your rather large appointment slot." Phil told her calmly. 

"That won't be necessary." Natasha replied. 

As their artist, their very beautiful artist, spoke to Natasha, Clint flipped through the binder. Steve wasn’t kidding when he said this guy brought tattoos to life. While there were plenty of regular tattoos- koi fish sleeves, Celtic arm bands, Chinese lettering that looked remarkably like the symbols on his favorite Chinese restaurant's menu - many of the tattoos took on a life and spirit of their own.

The first picture to really catch him off guard was of a green baby dragon. At first that is what his eyes told his brain he saw, a photograph of an honest to God baby dragon trying to stretch his new wings. It took his brain a moment to catch up and tell him it was tattooed in to the skin of a man's arm. Clint was astounded. He didn't think art like this was possible. 

Clint's curiosity won out over his astonishment, and he continued flipping. Holy Mary Jesus Joseph and the monopoly guy! Was that a real eye? No, that too was just ink. The picture that really hit Clint and made him realize that this guy was perfect - and not just to fuck him stupid perfect, but actually talented - was a picture of a mother and child. The woman was older, but not old, 40's perhaps, with the most real tears in her eyes and a giant red rose in her hair. Her long dark hair raised to swell atop her head then cascaded down her shoulders and wrapped around the sleeping infant clutched to her chest, as though at any moment the child would float away or cease to exist all together. It looked like an old photograph someone had dug out of their attic. In fact, that's probably what it was. 

Clint was brought out of his musing by a new shadow above him. He raised his head with a startled expression settling on his face. 

"That one's my favorite." Phil told him with a gentle smile. That smile shot a tingling sensation all through Clint's body. He wanted more of those smiles. 

"So, what are we getting today? Darcy mention something about matching hands." Phil asked. 

Clint and Natasha both extended their right hand outward towards Phil with palms facing him, fingers forming the 'rock on' symbol, but with the thumb extended sideways. "My hand on Clint's left ribs, and Clint's hand on my left ribs." Natasha explained.

Darcy popped her head out of the filing cabinet she had it buried in, exclaiming "Rock on!" Clint shook his head. "I love you" he corrected.

A sly smile drifted across Darcy's face "I'm flattered but you haven't even taken me to dinner yet." 

Phil rolled his eyes. 

"It's the ASL hand shape for 'I love you' " Natasha explained. 

"Ah. That's cute. " Darcy replied dryly. 

Phil nodded, though if Clint didn't know any better he would say his face dropped just a hair. "You two know this is completely permanent and you have picked a very painful spot, though I don't mean to discourage you.” Phil inquired as much as he stated it as fact. The pair nodded wordlessly. "Keep your hands like that." Phil instructed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

A brand new Rose Gold iPhone 6s Clint observed, he supposed it made sense being an artist and being reliant on clear images for reference and research. It didn't make Clint any less jealous even if just for a moment. 

Phil manipulated their hands just so, Clint assumed it was to get perfect lighting. When Phil's hands gripped his formed fingers and wrist, pushing, pulling and turning it just right, he couldn't help the warmth that slowly seeped through him, like sitting in front of a crackling fire when you didn't even know you were cold. Clint shook himself mentally. Get a grip Barton, he's so far out of your league you’re on different planets. Phil showed them the pictures making sure that it was exactly what they wanted the tattoos to look like. 

After that, Clint zoned out (which was easy to do when everything was so quiet), letting Nat handle the final details like the quality of realism they were hoping to achieve. He came to when Nat's hand rest once more on his shoulder, and noticed Phil sitting at a drafting table to the left of the front desk. He turned back to Nat when she gently slid her hand down his arm. "Phil said to come back in 45 minutes and he'd be ready for us. Coffee and cigarettes?" Nat asked, then turned to leave. 

"Sure." Clint managed to croak out while following her, each carrying their motorcycle helmet with them. 

15 minutes later, a mochaccino and a large cup of death (Nat's black coffee with 3 shots of espresso), found them sitting at what seemed to be S.H.I.E.L.D’s designated smoking area, considering the giant, vaguely butt plug shaped cigarette receptacle. Probably mostly for Bucky as Steve had complained about that particular awful habit of his once, Clint pondered as he sat in one of the simple wrought iron lawn chairs on either side of the butt plug and lit a cigarette. 

Clint turned to look at Nat watching her as she sipped her possible COD. "Try not to fuck him until after our tattoos are done. I can't risk fallout affecting his work." Clint saw, more then heard, her say. 

Clint let out a mirthless chuckle. "Who me? Now, why would you think a thing like that?" 

Natasha narrowed her eyes then arched an elegant brow while reaching across Goliath's personal sex toy. She snatched the partially crushed pack of Marlboro Reds and zippo out of Clint's hand. 

"Right. Because you weren't completely eye-fucking him so hard you didn't know what was going on. I could have been selling your kidneys and you would have stood there doe-eyed with a smile and a hard on." Lighting one for herself she pinned Clint with a look. He knew she was right. She usually was. 

He returned her look with an accusatory one, after glancing at the cigarette settled between her lush lips, that clearly said ‘Pot. Kettle.’

"Don't judge me. I need this if I have to keep dealing with you." Natasha declared. 

Clint huffed and reclined into the chair as they settled into a comfortable silence. Clint stared off into the clear cerulean sky occasionally dragging on his cigarette, enjoying the warmth of the late summer sun and cool breeze. Even if the air did smell faintly of bacon and trash from the diner down the road. But that's New York for you. 

Things with Nat were always like this. Comfortable, no judgment. They were each other's safe place to retreat to. Nat didn't care who he had been or what he had done or that he his hearing was worse than a 94 year old grandmother. Legally deaf actually. Though he did prefer in situations like these to not be reliant on lip reading. Serves him right for forgetting the batteries. He'd bet anything Phil had a beautiful voice. 

Clint turned in time to watch Natasha stand, discarding half a cigarette as she smacked her lips, looking as though she had sucked a lemon. "Dry mouth. I knew there was a reason I didn't like those things. " She clarified. He barely caught the "Be right back." before she headed across the street to the bodega, presumably for water. 

Natasha had just vanished from sight when a large shadow loomed over him. He turned his head upward and to the side to see who would dare block his sun. Oh! It was Phil. Of course. And he was staring down at him with playful accusation. Clint felt like a child opening his Christmas presents on December 15. He decided to deflect with a mischievous smile. 

"That is a terrible, nasty habit. " Phil informed him. 

Clint watched his mouth carefully. “Oh yeah?" Clint replied quickly, while bringing his cigarette to his lips. 

"Yes. " Phil confirmed, taking the cancer stick right from between Clint's lips. Clint couldn't find it in himself to protest, even though he was sure the fate that awaited his little bit of comfort was the same fate that Natasha's had met only moments before. 

When the lit smoke was, in fact, not tossed, but brought to Phil's own lips, Clint felt as though he had been punched in the gut. "Terrible, nasty habit. Huh?" Clint asked wanting clarification. 

"Absolutely dreadful. " Phil emphasized, as he took a slow drag. He slowly released the smoke through his nose while offering the butt back to Clint. When all the smoke had been cleared from his lungs Phil informed Clint "I'm ready for you," then briskly turned and walked back through the shop doors. 

As the door closed, Clint took a deep gasping breath as he relegated the shared, mostly dead butt to the refuse bin before he had a chance to think too hard about the last place it had been. Clint felt as though he had been dunked under water and only just emerged. He was finally able to breath, except for the realization to settle in him that he was totally and royally screwed. And, judging by the knowing looks Nat was giving him, she knew it too. 

That's ok. A few more hours or so and he'd never have to worry about Phil again. How great, and completely untouchable, for Clint. Life would be back to normal by bed time. He led the way back into the shop and very deliberately didn't examine too hard why that thought didn't comfort him as much as it should have. 

There stood Phil leaning against the front desk waiting on them. Tie removed. Top two buttons undone, and sleeves rolled halfway up his for arms, revealing the colorful edges of what Clint assumed to be tattoo sleeves. So fucking screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge hug and a giant cookie to all my readers, reviewers and those who gave me kudos. That is my life blood. 
> 
> See you all in about a week. Xoxo.


	3. Princess and the Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update:
> 
> This chapter has been re beta-Ed.
> 
> A gigantic thank you to my new Beta Lillyjk. She has done an amazing job at Beta, even rechecking the already posted chapters (the re-edited versions are going up tonight.) Korean tacos for Lillyjk! 
> 
>  
> 
> Expect updates once a week.
> 
> If any of my facts are wrong or offensive, I'm sorry, please let me know.
> 
> Now read, review, and enjoy.

Chapter 3  
Princess and the Dragon

 

Phil unlocked the front door of his brownstone in Queens and entered silently. It was a bit past 23:00, make that 11:00 pm, he mentally corrected himself. Too many years with the military and law enforcement meant he still thought in military time. Either way, Alice would be sound asleep, as a 6 year old should be at this late hour. 

He didn't usually work this late. He was usually home by 20:00 most nights, which left just enough time to share a small dessert with Alice and tuck her in for the night. It was their tradition. He would like more time with her, true, but at least he had mornings and most weekends. Being a frequently sought after artist and having Fury's support went a long way to help make his life just a little more suited for that of an uncle?...Caretaker?... Guardian?... Father? It didn't matter, he was all those things, and none of them. In the end she was his Alice. That's all that mattered. And he was her...Whatever she needed him to be. 

He set his satchel down on the sideboard and his keys in the the giant opalescent clam shell bowl beside it. With the stealth of a thief, he crept across what was considered an entry way, down a step, and into the living room. When he reached the antique oak coffee table he captured the remote that laid there, upside-down and forgotten, and turned off the TV. 

If not for his years of training the sudden, "Not asleep, boss," would have startled him. He turned to see the young woman with sleep tousled wavy brown hair draped across the arm of his sofa with her laptop still precariously perched on her lap. 

"Hi Skye. How was she tonight?" He asked his nanny. She was young. Just celebrated her twenty fourth birthday if he recalled. But capable. She had been amazing these last 8 months. He’d been lucky to find her and she’d been a perfect match with Alice. Skye worked fulltime as a nanny while taking courses online to work toward her computer degree.

Skye frowned a bit and looked almost slightly guilty. "A bit crankier than usual to have her routine disrupted. I don't think she really understood what was going on. I tried my best to explain, but well, there is a reason you’re the tattoo artist and I'm not.” She said with a sly grin as she scooped up her laptop and started to head towards the lowest level, which was designated her own space. 

Phil nodded. He was afraid of that. It really couldn't have been helped. While he worked the regular hours of the shop, 12:00-19:00, he was available by appointment on the weekends for big or high paying tattoos. In this case, the clients needed a later appointment slot during the week to fit with their tight schedule. While the tattoos themselves had been relatively small (life size human hands) the fact there were two and the high level of detail made the pair pricey and worth a little schedule rearrangement. Or so he thought. 

"Although, bacon tomato pizza from New Park's and Oreos with peanut butter did help to smooth things over. BTdubs, there's leftovers of both." Skye told him. 

Phil wasn't thrilled about that either. It had begun to bother him how often they were using food to soothe her moods and tantrums. He knew they usually stemmed from frustration at not being able to communicate. Most of her unacceptable behavior did. He understood that, but that didn't mean he could let it go unchecked either. But even that was hard sometimes. 

Skye stopped in the doorway of her domain and turned back toward Phil. "It'll be all right, ya know. The school, it'll be good for her. That's what they're saying, right? And they're the experts, so they know what they're talking about, right? So. Yeah. It'll get better, you'll see." She told him with a small smile. 

Phil nodded and returned her smile warmly. "Have a good night, Skye." 

"You too." She called over her shoulder as she descended the staircase. 

Phil walked through the short hallway off the side of the living room, catty-corner to the dining room and kitchen, that led to Alice's room. He eased the door open and poked his head into, really, what could have been any little girl's room. What with all the pink and purple, and the royal mural he painted on her wall, complete with a red haired princess and her pet dragon. Alice insisted on a beret to lay atop the dragon's head; it had taken almost an hour, several sketches and numerous magazine pictures to figure out what she was asking for. No words were needed to know how thrilled his princess was that he was able to give her exactly what she was asking for. 

He gently sat beside her on her oversized bed (for a 6 year old) topped with a silver scroll work comforter. He took the flashcards that lay neglected on the other side of her and set them on the bedside table near him. They had pictures of common everyday things on them and the spelling beneath them. They were trying get a head start on reading and writing. 

He'd say head start but maybe it was really catching up. Because the accident and all that followed she had missed out on kindergarten, the Marvel School for the Hearing Impaired had assured him she would not be held back and would receive the help she need to learn to cope with her new hearing loss. They said immersing her in deaf culture will help with the transition. They had high hopes it would help her overcome her hesitancy of learning American Sign Language, and that she would also get speech therapy. She started in two weeks. They would see then, he supposed. 

For the first time in almost a year, he was finally beginning to feel grateful for the large life insurance policy Sophie took out on herself when she became pregnant, as well as his inheritance from her instead of just feeling bitter about being reminded of his loss. At least Phil would never have to worry about being able to give Alice the best medical treatment and education available, including college. And there was still an inheritance set aside for when she turned 18. 

Phil gave in to the urge to stroke her curly, if slightly unkempt strawberry blonde hair. Though others had told him what he was doing was wrong that if she didn't want to sign he shouldn't force the subject, Phil was sure he was doing the right thing. But she was 6, just barely at that. He'd known her all her life and was there before it started. Phil and his sister Sophie had bonded even closer during her pregnancy. The following years the three of them lived together cemented those bonds even more. Then their world was turned sideways by the tragic accident that took his best friend, and sister, Alice's mother, and Alice's hearing away from them.

He knew his niece better than anyone. Yes, there were currently barriers of communication to overcome, but he still knew her. He needed to offer her the opportunity. If by the end of the school year she still did not want to use sign language, the subject would be dropped. He owed it to her to try though. 

“So should I,” Phil thought. It's not that he didn't want to learn sign language, he did if it helped him communicate with her. It's not that he couldn't, hell he was fluent in three non English languages. Well, he was a decade ago, might be a bit rusty now, but still. No, it seemed every time he would sit down to a video, something came up. What he did learn didn't stick with him as long as he wasn't using it to converse. Though he learned a new one today, one he was sure he would never forget. 

He grabbed the sketch book on her night stand and the colored pencils, he quickly sketched a red heart in the center of the page with a blue tie to the left and a yellow tiara to the right. There was a "P" on the tie and an "A" on the crown. They were the symbols they used to identify each other when using pictures to communicate. It seemed to be the most successful means so far. He tore off the page and laid it beside her on the pillow for her to find in the morning. 

He briefly held the 'I love you' hand shape above her then leaned over and kissed her cheek. Phil left as silently as he entered before his thoughts had a chance to drift to a certain blonde Romeo now sporting his ink. And surprisingly, one who was deaf as well. 

When Phil arrived at his room on the top floor he closed the door and leaned against it sighing, thinking back on the day. Clint’s deafness had come as a shock actually. He heard Clint speak. He spoke well Phil thought, though he did seem a bit spacey. He supposed some signs were there, and Phil just didn't know what to look for. Phil probably would have never known if Clint hadn't told him. 

Phil pondered this as he walked through the room undressing, hanging his belt, putting his shirt and slacks in the hamper for dry cleaning and his undershirt and boxer briefs into the laundry hamper. He found himself in the ensuite master bath, standing beneath the hot spray. 

He had been finishing his set up for Clint - talking him through it and asking him to watch as Phil took the proper sanitation measures, like opening the new needle- when Clint asked Phil to look at him as he spoke so he could read his lips. 

Not that it changed anything, no Phil still lusted fruitlessly after what he didn't deserve. Clint was a beautiful young man who could have anyone he wanted. Moreover he wanted what wasn't available to be wanted, what could never be his. Phil sighed, leave it to him to get a hard on for a straight man. And one that was clearly head over heels for his female counterpart. 

Phil's hands ran over his body, washing the day away when they lingered over his fully erect cock. He was slightly frustrated by the fact that even benign thoughts of the man had this effect on him. It was probably wrong of him to wonder what it would feel like to have Clint's hand wrapped around right then. 

Phil leaned against the blue tile wall as he slowly stroked his cock with a firm grip, in a way he thought Clint might. He imagined Clint's strong callused hands stroking him. Phil added a twist to his wrist and increased his speed. Images of Clint in black skinny jeans, sitting on the tattoo chair sideways, taking off his grey Henley, balling it up and handing it to...Phil focused on the sight and feel of Clint's chest. Phil's breathing became labored, his muscles slowly tightening. He wasn't far off now. He could still feel the smooth hard pecs beneath his gloved hands, still see the six-pack...wait no, it was a whole fucking liquor store. 

Phil's hand sped up, images of Clint smoking assaulted him, that cigarette gently encased by two sensual lips. Phil's imagination took the next logical leap. How would those lips feel wrapped around his aching cock? Phil swore beneath his breath. The imagery that followed had him coming undone quickly. He could almost see Clint kneeling between his feet, his powerful hands braced against Phil's thighs swallowing down Phil's cock as it was fed to him. 

That did it. Phil came with a low groan, as proof of his guilt splashed the tiles. 

Phil hunched against the wall a moment to catch his breath. He was pretty sure there was a special place in hell for people like him. Oh well, it's not like he was ever going to see him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all my Readers, kudo-ers, reviewers, and subscribers, you all make this happen. Im feeling the love!
> 
> Come play with me on tumbler! thepurpletie797


	4. Hot Like Satan's Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update:
> 
> This chapter has been re beta-Ed.
> 
> A gigantic thank you to my new Beta Lillyjk. She has done an amazing job at Beta, even rechecking the already posted chapters (the re-edited versions are going up tonight.) Korean tacos for Lillyjk!
> 
>  
> 
> Expect updates once a week.
> 
> If any of my facts are wrong or offensive, I'm sorry, please let me know.
> 
> Now read, review, and enjoy.

Chapter 4  
Hot like Satan's Rage

 

Backstage, Clint fiddled with the collar of his button-up shirt. 

"Stop that. It's not like we don't do this every year." Natasha scolded him, signing as she spoke. 

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean I like the whole presentation thing. It's always so...Ugh." Clint huffed back at her, signing only parts of what he spoke, because really, there was something lost in translation. 

Natasha looked so smart in her black pencil skirt and emerald blouse. This would be one of the few occasions Clint got to see her like this, her being the gym teacher and all. Clint personally couldn't wait to get back to his own music room. 

"Well, the good news is I'm pretty sure people don't die from an 'ugh' experience." She told him smartly. 

Clint viewed her skeptically. "Yeah? Well, what if you’re wrong?"

"Then you go down in the history books, and they'll have a new PSA to play on PBS." She responded dryly. 

"Will you wear a purple ribbon to raise awareness?" He asked hopefully. 

"No. But I will pour one out for you at pride next year. " 

"That'll do." Clint conceded. 

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his dark slacks and began to rock on the balls of his feet. "How do we get stuck with this every year anyways? I just want to get onto the tour and meet n' greet. That part’s actually cool."

Natasha rolled her eyes. Some days, her eyes reminded him of marbles on an uneven floor that way. "You know why. We're the prettiest of the teachers that speak. It allows them to put on a good face, while still having someone that the hearing-only parents can understand." 

It was orientation day at Marvel, a private elementary school in the Bronx for hearing impaired children. Orientation happened every year, the day before school officially started, and it gave the new children and their parents a chance to see the school and meet the instructors. 

"Why not Steve? He's pretty." Clint inquired. And he was indeed, the cutest twink Clint had ever seen. While not his usual type, he still would have hit that years ago had the younger man not been 'secretly' in love with his best friend and roommate, Bucky. It was only a secret to Bucky. 

"I used to, but they got tired of taking me to the nurse for panic attacks afterwards." Steve corrected blandly as he approached. "Are we still on for Korean tacos after this whole thing?" Steve asked. When the inseparable pair nodded he added "Good. And oh, you're up." 

Clint stood, straightened his shoulders, smiled, and headed off to the executioners table. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner he got his sriracha-kimchi slaw. 

 

****

Clint sat against the front of his desk, clutching lukewarm coffee in his favorite 'Warning! I'm a music teacher!’ mug. It was a gift from their largest benefactor, Tony Stark, the last time he made his rounds to see where his money was going, and frankly a good chunk of it went to music. Any minute now, a small horde of new parents and students would come waltzing in, some of them needing their misconceptions of deaf people and music changed. 

Clint set the mug down and stepped up on to the risers in the back of the room when he saw the door open. The people filed in led by Jane Foster. A relatively small group, maybe only ten kids and their family members. When the room was full he began his annual introduction, signing, as he usually did, at least at school. "Welcome to the music room. I'm Mr. Clint Barton." He finger spelled his name then did his sign name- a 'C' handshape placed by his eyes. "I'm the music teacher. Rhythm is important in learning to speak and generally conversing. Not to mention a lot of fun. That will be our main focus. We will do this through mostly percussion instruments and choral signing. I invite everyone to take a look around and feel free to play with what's out. I'll make my way around and meet each of you. If I accidentally miss you, flag me down, I do want to meet you.”

And make his way around he did. He handed Kate Bishop a tambourine and watched as she went to town on it. He and Peter Parker signed twinkle twinkle together. He was pretty sure he had got everyone, until one caught his eye. A little red haired girl was sulking on the first step of the black and silver risers as a man Clint assumed to be her father tried to get her to take a maraca. He walked around to stand in front of the father. What happened next made his stomach drop. 

When the man looked up Clint was met with the same blue eyes that had been haunting him for weeks. It was sexy-principal-tattoo artist! And, holy cheese and crackers Batman! He had a kid, one that looked just like him, same eyes and strong, yet still feminine jaw. Clint actually began to feel bad about his extra long showers. He barely had time to recover to realize Phil was speaking, though as it turned out Clint had been right, Phil had a remarkable voice, rich, warm and soothing, like hot apple cider in the winter. 

"Clint! What a pleasant surprise. Although it shouldn't really be, I mean we did see Ms. Romanov in the gym. I mean not that I expect you to go where she goes. Though you do seem close. But, uh I mean it's good to see you again. I mean..." 

At some point during Phil's rant (Clint supposed he felt awkward. Who would expect to see their client out of work?) Clint had recovered enough to go into teacher mode and put Phil out of his misery. "It's good to see you too." And it was. He held his left hand out to shake Phil's, not that he was checking for a ring. But what do you know, no ring, not even a tan line. Not that he should get too excited. Phil was obviously straight. 

"And who is this little lady?" He said kneeling on one knee in front of her.

"This is Alice Coulson."

"Hi Alice, I'm Mr Barton" Clint both signed and spoke but got no reaction.

"She doesn't sign...yet. Actually she's been quite resistant to it. Though to be fair she's had a rough year. On top of losing her hearing, she lost her mother too. Both less than a year ago." Phil explained but then tapped Clint on the shoulder as he was still trying to get a reaction from Alice. Clint turned to look at him " I'm sorry. I said..." 

Clint gave him a small smile and cut him off. "It's ok. I heard you." When Phil gave him a skeptical look Clint explained. "I wear hearing aids. That day at the shop my batteries were dead. I had forgotten to change them the night before and they died on the way there and I forgot my spares. Perfect storm kinda thing. I'm 80% deaf, without them I really can't hear much of anything. So I'm reliant on reading lips. If necessary, Nat can translate. With them I can get by. Though I still rely on lip reading a lot." 

"Oh. I see." 

Clint's face fell dramatically as he mentally rewound the conversation. "I'm very sorry for your loss." Clint meant it. The very idea of this man hurting like that made his gut twist. Though he wasn't sure why. 

"Thank you. Losing my sister hit us both hard. But we have each other. That's what's important right now." 

Clint blinked. Sister? This was...His niece? While he still hurt for the man a part of him celebrated. Until he squashed it. “stupid Barton. Even if he is gay, or bi he's still too good for you. He probably dates doctors and lawyers. Not stupid music teachers.” He thought to himself. "Absolutely" Clint agreed. 

Clint took the shaker from Phil and went to the cabinets to the right of the risers exchanging it for a hand drum. He knelt back down in front of Alice who, frankly, looked like some one told her she was getting a root canal. Though Clint suspected she would actually handle that better. He hit the drum in a simple rhythm then tried to pass it to her. When she didn't take it he tried again. She merely stared at him as though she thought he was completely stupid. 

"It’s hard to adjust to something like that. Heck it took me six years just to start. I was 12 when I lost it.” Clint realized what he said could be discouraging to Phil so he quickly added "But I didn't have any support till I met Natasha. Maybe things would have been different if I had." He turned and gave Phil a small smile which was returned wholeheartedly. Clint didn't know why he was telling him so much. But it felt right and he really liked those smiles. Maybe a little too much. 

Clint turned back to Alice who still looked like she had just been offered sour milk. He decided to try a new approach. He had a hunch she was so focused on what she had lost, that she didn't realize all that she gained. "Ok Alice I got an idea. Let's take your shoes off." He told her and signed then improvised and used more universal signs by pointing to her shoes then jerking his thumb over his shoulder in one quick motion like a hitchhiker. When her expression went unchanged he turned back to Phil. "How do you usually communicate? Can you help me out?."

"Yes, but how will this help? Phil asked as he pulled a sketchpad and pencils out.

"She'll be able to feel the vibrations around her better. That's how deaf people enjoy music mostly" Clint explained as Phil sat next to his niece and quickly drew a pair of Mary-Janes like the ones she had on then an arrow leading to a pair of socked feet. 

Clint watched in awe as his hand quickly glided across the pages as though casting a spell. Phil showed the picture to Alice while telling Clint "This has given us the best results so far. Though we are working on reading and writing, but that's going slow." 

Alice finally conceded and removed her shoes with a skeptical look on her face. With expressions like her's, words weren't really needed. Clint tried again. This time he didn't stop repeating the easy beat he chose. It took a minute or so but she slowly started to relax then became curious after a moment reaching out to take the drum from him. 

She began to hit it experimentally, one strike at a time. Her hits slowly picked up speed but had no specific pattern. A small smile crept across her face that soon turned into a full grin. Clint counted it as win. Apparently so did Phil judging by the beaming smile that spread across his face. One that seemed to be mixed with...relief? That look turned his insides to pudding and legs to Jell-o. Clint actually sat next to Alice to keep from falling over. If Clint thought Phil was a looker before, he looked positively radiant like this. 

"Thank you" Phil told him. 

Clint couldn't help the blush that warmed his face. Clint dismissed any credit he'd been given. "Nah. It's nothing, gotta earn my keep somehow ya know." 

"I'm sure you earn it in spades." Phil assured him warmly. 

During their interaction neither noticed Jane leading the group out, leaving the room empty save for themselves. 

Clint had an idea, he just wasn't sure it was a good one. Well it was a good idea, at least in the sense he thought the small Coulson family could benefit from it, and had nothing to do with wanting to see more of this man. Nope, not at all. What he wasn't sure of was whether or not it would blow up in his face sooner or later. Well, hell, that never stopped him before, why start now?

"So, uh, Phil. I, uh, I was thinking. I mean I uh, had an idea." Phil suddenly looked very interested in what Clint had to say, and Clint became very interested in the ugly blue grey carpet between his feet, as he continued. "Look it's honestly none of my business. So, if I'm out of line just say so. But...Well, you seem like great guy that cares a lot, and Alice really seems like a great kid and smarter than we probably give her credit for. So... I wanna help. Look I get the impression you don't sign yet, and...If you want...I have experience tutoring ASL. So I could do... do that ya know." But in a rush of self doubt he quickly added, "or Natasha, or someone else, I can recommend someone good." 

Phil's face took on a stern expression before telling him, "You're right." 

Of course, Clint had no right to call him out on not signing. He started to apologize.

"That sounds great." 

"I'm sorry, I had no..." Both men spouted at the same time. "Wait what?" Did Clint hear him right?

"You're right, I don't sign, but I do want to. It's a good idea, but I'm afraid the reason I haven't tried one yet is I don't have much time for a tutor. Most nights I'm lucky if I get home before Alice falls asleep." Phil explained, actually looking disappointed. Clint felt himself relax and gave Phil a reassuring smile. 

"Oh hey, that's not a problem. We could use Skype. Like just an hour a night doing vocabulary and longer sessions on your days off to focus on putting it together." 

This seemed to please Phil because the disappointment dissipated. "Yes. I think that could work. Would after 8:00 or 9:00 during the week be a problem?"

"Not at all." Clint replied as he reached into his shirt pocket for the small note pad and pen he kept there. He jotted down his phone number, tore off the page folded it twice, and - feeling momentarily bold, or maybe just reckless - stuck the paper in Phil's shirt pocket himself. Not that it got a reaction. "Get in touch when you want to work out the details." 

Phil nodded. It was then the pair notice the empty room void of people and noise except for those coming from Alice and her drum. "I'm sorry we didn't mean to take so much of your time. We should get going, I actually have an appointment this afternoon. I'll be in touch soon." Phil told him as he tried to wrestle the drum away without her screaming. In the end it was Phil drawing a calendar on the sketch pad and a little drum on each weekday, that did the trick. 

They exchanged their goodbyes and when the pair were only feet from the door Clint called out and stopped them. "Oh, hey Phil! I almost forgot..." 

Phil stopped and turned. "Yes?" 

A sassy smirk crossed Clint's features. "Remind me to never play Pictionary against you guys" 

Phil’s face was blank for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched up. He looked...Devious. "Absolutely not," was his only reply before leading his niece out of the room. 

Not a moment later Natasha came in one brow quirked up, but said nothing as she helped him clean. The sooner they finished the sooner they ate. They both knew this. Maybe he had escaped the Spanish Inquisition after all. 

****

Nope, he hadn't. 

Natasha had waited until after they had bellies full of Korean tacos and had left their friends at the food truck, before she pounced. "You’ve got it bad." She told him as they walked back to school to get his bike. 

"I don't know what you’re talking about." Clint denied. 

Natasha's eyes once more did an impression of marbles. "Even if I hadn't seen Mr. Coulson leave your room 15 minutes after everyone else, and the stupid smile plastered across your face ever since, I still know what your extra long showers mean. Since even on a bad day you couldn't wash yourself faster if you just ran through a sprinkler." 

Clint wondered why he even still bothered to deny her observations any more. A game of cat and mouse he supposed. 

"So, when is the date? Or are you just going to meet him in the seediest crack motel you can find?" She asked nonchalantly. She might as well have asked if we wanted fries with that shake. And boy did he ever. 

"Option 'C' none of the above." 

"Uh-huh," she said not buying it for a minute. 

"Seriously, I just offered to tutor the guy in ASL on Skype." 

Natasha's face was completely relaxed though Clint knew she was concerned. "Be careful mixing business and pleasure." 

Clint sighed. "No pleasure, all business." Clint continued before she could express her disbelief. "Look ok, yeah I like the guy. I mean look at him. He's mature, classy with edge and hotter than that Satan's Rage hot sauce that you eat like ketchup. I don't have a chance in hell with a guy like that. He can do a lot better than a stupid whore like me." Clint almost lost his balance due to surprise from the sudden stop more than force of the slap on his face that came next. Fury burned bright in her green eyes.

"Don't you dare ever let me catch you speaking of yourself like that again."

And he wouldn't.

You don't cross Natasha when she feels this strongly about something. "Any man who has you even for a moment should feel honored and humbled." They both knew she meant every word. They both also knew he didn't believe a single word. He nodded and they continued walking. "That hot sauce isn't that hot. You're just a pussy." She mentioned as they arrived at his purple and black Yamaha sports bike. 

Situation forgotten. For now at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all my Readers, kudo-ers, reviewers, and subscribers, you all make this happen. Im feeling the love!
> 
> Come play with me on tumbler! thepurpletie797


	5. A Unicorn Shitting Rainbows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gigantic thank you to my new Beta Lillyjk. She has done an amazing job at Beta, even rechecking the already posted chapters (the re-edited versions are going up tonight.) Korean tacos for Lillyjk! 
> 
> So i had to get a seasonal job, which means updates might slow down to the originally scheduled once a week, but at least your allmost through the slowest part. Angst and fluff is just around the corner.
> 
> If any of my facts are wrong or offensive, I'm sorry, please let me know.
> 
> Now read, review, and enjoy.

Chapter 5  
A Unicorn Shitting Rainbows

It was 13:00 and Phil was on his black leather stool leaning back against his workstation at S.H.I.E.L.D. He was waiting for his special request appointment who seemed to be running late. Of course, it was no skin off Phil's nose either way. If he was later than 15 minutes, he would be charged for making Phil wait. If he didn't show? He lost his deposit. Most of it went to Phil since only his time was wasted. It was doable to get Phil out of regular hours but it was often not cheap or easy. That didn't deter his customers. After they saw the work, any complaints or grievances they previously had died in their mouths. 

13:05 still not there. That's ok. It gave him time to think about the morning. Although, maybe that wasn't such a good thing after all. 

He remembered how his chest tightened at the presentation when the unattainable man stepped on to stage to greet the crowd with a short speech. He’d lifted his head-from trying to get Alice to warm up a bit to the whole situation and been met with those eyes that would be the death of him. Phil's heart had started beating so fast he’d thought he was going into cardiac arrest.

Phil shifted on the stool again, his thumb stroking absentmindedly over the paper with Clint's number on it. Phil didn't know how long he had been fiddling with the piece of paper Clint had given him when it was snatched from his hands. 

"Now what is this. A phone number? You sly dog it's about time." Fury crowed as he read it. 

Phil didn't bother to even try taking it back. Although, Nick only got it because Phil's thoughts were elsewhere. "Don't read anything in to it," Phil told him dryly. 

"Why's that, Coulson? Is the guy 500 pounds and smells like onion? Big guys needs love too. " Bucky asked, never losing focus on the spongebob stripper tattoo he was working on for his client’s eighteenth birthday. 

"A guy like that is made up of at least two people, and I'm not poly," Phil said merely to dismiss the inquiries. 

"Oh no Barnes, this guy is about 190, 5'10. One Clint Barton," Fury corrected. "Came in with his girl about 2 weeks ago to get matching ink. Did he break it off, Cheese? Are you the rebound?" 

No sense resisting, Phil thought. "No. It turns out he’s a teacher at Marvel. I met him today at orientation. He offered to tutor me in ASL on Skype. That's it." Fury's lone eye stared at him in disbelief. 

"Oh yeah, I know the guy. Well, I mean I've met him a time two when I had to bring Stevie his inhaler. Him and the smokin' hot red head he's always with, the kind guys sell their souls to get wit, she the one? Natasha, I think. I didn't know they were together. Stevie is the one who sent them your way." 

When Bucky finished his rant Darcy piped in. "Oh, totally together! They got matching 'I love you' hands. It was uber romantic." Darcy's face made it clear how distasteful she found this notion. 

Phil couldn't agree more. 

"So, if it's business and you don't have a chance, why the pining? Call him." Fury dared.

"Hey no, he's got to wait three days," Bucky interjected. 

"No, that's stupid. Why are guys caught up on that? I won't bother with a guy who has to do the three day rule." Darcy added. 

Melinda May lifted her head momentarily from her client. "It's not a date. Phil, just call when it's convenient. Waiting too long may make him think, you think it's a date. You could lose your tutor." Melinda sagely suggested. 

"Yo! G-man! I got one for ya!" It was at that moment that Darcy's voice rang out ending further discussion. For everyone but Nick. Nick only ended things on his terms and these weren't it, although he did retreat to his office.

Ah, small mercies, even if they did come at the price of a headache. "Darcy I'm right here." Phil told her in exasperation.

****

 

Four hours later found Phil sitting in his little red Honda Accord staring down at Clint's number once again. May had a point, he didn't want Clint thinking he expected anything more than a professional tutor. Phil dug out his phone and shot Clint a text, then headed home to take Alice and Skye out to dinner. 

 

Phil’s text was the first in a series of exchanges arranging for he and Clint to Skype one hour a night at 21:00 each week night except Wednesday with one three hour session each Saturday. 

They agreed to start the third Monday from the orientation to give Clint and Alice a chance to adjust to the new schedule. On that Monday evening at 20:50, Phil found himself fidgeting in the small sitting room that doubled as a home studio right off his bedroom. 

The whole last two weeks he had been repeating the same mantra to himself. *Not a date, don't be nervous, this isn't a date.* It hadn't worked then and it wasn't working now. Phil got up from the brown leather pub style love seat only to sit back down and stare at his MacBook across from him on the coffee table. Instead of getting up again to fill the next five minutes, he looked up at his reflection in the black screen of the TV. He was wearing navy sweat pants and a white undershirt. Just as his thoughts were going to take a negative turn about his appearance, the Skype program began to ring. 

He clicked the button to accept the call and waited only a few seconds before a familiar handsome face dominated the screen. 

"Hey, Phil." Clint greeted him while signing. 

"Hi, Clint." 

Clint's eyes widened. "Well look at that! The tattoo artist does have tattoos." Clint let out a low whistle, eyes fixated on Phil's two full sleeves of various work. 

Phil snorted, “That’s usually implied."

Clint grinned, "One would think, but I was starting to wonder."

Phil schooled his expression to keep his excitement of Clint's clear admiration suppressed. "Well one mustn't assume. I've just been covered."

Clint's wide grin was enhanced by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Well see, that's the problem."

Was Clint flirting? No. Well, maybe he was but Clint was a charming man. He probably did that with every one. That's it, he was just being charming. He was, after all, in a serious relationship and Clint didn't seem the type to step out.

Before Phil had a chance to formulate a response and possibly embarrass himself, Clint made a mock stern expression while wagging his finger at the screen, "Now stop flirting with me and let's get crackin'." 

Phil couldn't stop himself this time, "But you're so hard to resist." His only saving grace was that he said it completely deadpan. At least this way maybe Clint wouldn't know how true those words were. 

Clint scoffed, "I know, right?" Completely sarcastic. 

They began the lesson with the basics. Because, as Clint explained, "Ok, so we'll start with the alphabet because, when in doubt, spell it out." 

Phil sat back and watched carefully, mimicking the signs Clint showed him. "This is A,” Clint told him while holding his hand up right, his four fingers curled in and thumb pressed against the side but straight up, as if making a proper fist for a punch. "You can remember this is A because,” Clint flipped his hand down so Phil could see the back. "If you look at it just right you can see how it looks like a baby A, " Clint said while using his index finger to draw a lowercase A on the back of his hand. 

Sure enough, Clint was right. This continued through the alphabet with Phil signing along on each letter as Clint patiently taught him the signs. If there was a trick to remembering a particular sign Clint would share it along the way which helped immensely. 

By the end of the hour, which came far too soon, Phil had mastered the alphabet and conquered the basics of finger spelling. Speed was an issue, but Phil knew from his experience in learning other languages that it only came with time and repetition. 

"While the saying 'if you don't use it, you lose it' doesn't ring true for dicks it's very accurate for language," Clint said teasingly. 

Phil nodded, "I'm well aware. That's one reason I've struggled."

Clint nodded in understanding. "The beauty about ASL is you can still speak and be understood while using it. When you're out and about in everyday life and you don't, ya know, have sharp pointy things in your hands, if you know the sign to the word you say, use it. Worst case scenario is people think you're Italian." 

Phil couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips, that warmed him from the inside out. “That I can do.” After a short wrap up, they exchanged pleasantries and ended the call. 

The following night was much the same. They ran through the alphabet,then started with simple important words like want, I, you, like, and colors. 

"I like purple, what like you?" Clint signed but didn't speak. 

Without thinking, as was often the case around this man, Phil signed back. "I like blue, like your eyes." Phil drew partially on the few signs he already knew. *Damn it Coulson* If hell didn't already exist, they would build one just for him. 

Clint blinked. "That's specific," he said, not bothering to sign.

Phil decided to just run with it, speaking aloud. "Yes, well, I like a very specific blue."  
Clint signed back with a wicked grin, fast enough that Phil couldn’t catch it all. But, he was pretty sure the sentence included "like your eyes" as well. 

"Do I get the translation for that?" Phil asked smirking.

"Nuh-uh, gives you something to work towards." Clint said with a wink. 

They were definitely flirting now. Only they weren't. Because they couldn't be. Because Clint was in love with someone else. A woman. One no man would be stupid enough to leave. So no, they definitely weren't flirting. Only...they were. 

****

 

Things continued that way over the next couple of weeks. They would Skype and sign, and flirt but not really flirt, and even got to know one another. Phil learned Clint would live off pizza if his living companions let him. He had a one eyed dog named Lucky that he had saved supposedly from the mafia. And said dog was originally named Pizza Dog. 

For his part, Phil had told Clint about his service background and how he then switched to Chicago Police Department, but left it at that. He explained how he started doing tattoos for the men in his unit, giving him much of his early experience. He even once mentioned how good he had gotten at stick-n-poke. If Phil didn't know any better, he'd swear Clint's pupils widened a bit when he told him, though that must have been his imagination. 

If there was a sudden spike in Phil's water bill for all his extra long showers following the signing sessions, well, that was just a coincidence. 

Things stayed the same, until they didn't. Until he found out a very small piece of information that would inevitably change everything. 

It was their second Saturday of tutoring. Just like their previous sessions, Phil sat on his sofa staring at the blue Skype screen. He was starting to worry, it was only a few minutes past 13:00, but still Clint had never been late before. 

Just then a dreary and haggard looking Clint appeared on screen holding a full coffee mug that read "I'm a music teacher. What's your superpower" He was in a far too tight to be decent grey tank top, and Phil thought he caught a glimpse of boxers as Clint shifted to get comfortable. He was also unshaven, which Phil thought was actually a good look on him. Phil was never more grateful that his camera only showed him from the waist up. My God he was pathetic. How much longer would he torture himself?

"Hey Phil," Clint said much more lack luster than usual.

"Hello yourself. Someone had a very a good night." Phil knew it was probably inappropriate seeing as they weren't friends (though he often felt like they were) they were student and teacher. 

If it was, Clint didn't seem to mind. "Ha! No not me. Nat. That's the problem."

Phil began to wonder if the happy couple wasn't so happy. "She threw a party and you weren't invited?" Phil inquired, feeling a bit like a teenage gossip. 

"You could say that. It was a party of two that sounded like howler monkeys. I mean I know our walls are thin, but jeeze!" 

Phil was astounded at the nonchalant way Clint was describing his girlfriend’s infidelity. 

"Snuck her out before I got up too." Clint added, definitely looking sour about it.

Phil couldn't believe his ears. A deep frown crossed his features. "Clint, I'm so sorry."

Clint looked confused, what he said next broke Phil's heart. "Uh, thanks but it's not a big deal. I mean these things happen when you live with someone."

"No, this is wrong! You deserve so much better. Someone loyal and faithful. Who will cherish you. No one should have to endure being cheated on and having it flaunted right in..." Phil broke off, afraid he’s overstepped.

"Whoa, wait a second. Be kind, rewind, faithful?! Cheated?!" Clint began to smile.

It was Phil's turn to be confused but he chugged on. He was truly outraged on Clint's behalf. "Yes. That's not a healthy relationship."

"Relationship?!" Clint squawked. He began chuckling as he spoke. "Oh my God!... You think...Nat...Me...That, Nat and I are..." Clint couldn't finish any of his thoughts because his chuckles quickly evolved into full-on belly laughs. 

Phil stared at the screen, dumbfounded and slightly insulted but mostly utterly confused. Maybe they had an open relationship that worked well for them. Clint laughed so hard he fell out of sight of the screen. 

"You know, I'm not a doctor but I'm certain I heard once that breathing may play, at least a minor role in living," Phil drawled. He wanted an explanation.

Clint finally sat up, his laughing fit now sporadic giggles though he did manage to choke out. "Phil, you gotta understand something...I'm as gay as a unicorn shitting rainbows!" 

 

Phil couldn't believe his ears. Gay? Clint was gay? Clint was gay. "But, you and Natasha?" 

Clint finally composed himself. "Are best friends, as close as two people can be. But still just friends and nothing more. Hell I'm pretty sure if my dick got within three feet of her I'd never get it back."

It was Phil's turn to laugh, but for a different reason. He had beat himself up for almost a month because he thought he was lusting over a straight attached man. Except while so much had changed, really nothing had at all. He still lusted after a man he had no chance of ever obtaining. 

"Now, that I'm awake, let's get started. The sign of the day, boys and girls, is gay. This is the sign for really fucking gay." Clint said while his hands flew through the air with the most beautiful smile on his face that Phil had ever seen. 

 

****

Their sessions continued as they had, same but completely different, maybe Phil was imagining it, but something seemed to have shifted between them with Clint’s clarification of his relationship with Natasha. 

The turning point came the Friday after what Phil came to think of as the great revelation. Phil asked if they could hold their Saturday session at his house in hopes of setting a good example for Alice. Clint agreed. 

Neither had any idea that this simple change of atmosphere would alter their dynamic permanently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all my Readers, kudo-ers, reviewers, and subscribers, you all make this happen. Im feeling the love!
> 
> Come play with me on tumbler! thepurpletie797


	6. Of Transgender Rats and Gay Men (Chapter 5 Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gigantic thank you to my new Beta Lillyjk. She has done an amazing job at Beta. Pizza for Lillyjk! 
> 
>  
> 
> Expect updates once a week.
> 
> If any of my facts are wrong or offensive, I'm sorry, please let me know.
> 
> Now read, review, and enjoy.

Chapter 6 (5.2)  
Of Transgender Rats and Gay Men

 

Saturday morning was filled with Phil frantically cleaning and generally nit-picking around the house. *It’s not a date Coulson. Your kid will be here!* Phil scurried around flipping and fluffing cushions, centering lamps and dusting. It was as much to keep himself busy as it was to have the place presentable. 

"So, are you gonna take the leap and ask him out, or are you just nesting?" Skye asked with her head quirked to the side and elbows resting on the kitchen table and back of the chair where she sat with Alice. 

Phil tried to exude an air of indifference. "I didn't realize I give you bonuses for snark," he deflected. 

Skye rolled her eyes and turned back to where Alice was copying words onto paper from her sight words flash cards. She was being 'helped' by three rats, a small ginger, a large black one, and a tubby mahogany and white one. She had been giving Phil suspicious looks but would stop to share her apple slices with the rats. 

Alice had been adjusting well to school, after a few rough days. She actually seemed to be enjoying it. Phil was pretty sure she was loving Clint's class if the way she went after the pots and pans was any indication. While she wasn't using signs regularly, there had been some. Between what Phil was learning in his sessions with Clint and what Skye had picked up from an online ASL course she’d worked in with her other studies, they had both been trying to encourage Alice to sign by signing themselves. Some days Alice responded to their attempts by signing back, sometimes not. It was progress, that's what mattered. Overall she had been more animated in expressing herself. Most days. Not now though. Phil still thought it was a win. 

"What have I said about rats on the table? And for heaven's sake don't let them eat off her plate." Phil scolded.

"Awe, but boss man they washed their paws first." Skye pleaded with her biggest puppy dog eyes while pointing to the condiment bowl of water sitting by the plate. 

"Did they scrub for twenty seconds while singing twinkle twinkle little star with soap?" Phil asked. Though he had a feeling that might come back to bite him in the ass. 

Skye's brows furrowed and lips puckered, then her face twisted up in concentration. "No. But give me a few weeks."

It really wouldn't surprise Phil if they did, Skye's rats were very well trained. "Please get them off the table and locked in your room." Phil said in exasperation and with his shoulders slumped. Skye and her unusual pets were a package deal, and truth be told, Phil had come to enjoy the critters and Alice was crazy about them.

Skye snapped her fingers three times then headed off to her lair. When Alice made a fuss, Skye doubled back for her, periodically snapping her fingers to keep the rats in tow and dropping treats. The quintet disappeared not a moment too soon. As soon as Skye's door closed, the door bell rang. Phil quickly dropped the rat apple plate in the sink before answering the door. 

The sight that met his eyes nearly brought him to his knees. Clint stood on the top step in faded blue jeans, a tight black Under Armour shirt and an unzipped black leather motorcycle jacket. He was clutching his motorcycle helmet beneath his arm and his backpack hung over one shoulder. 

When he was able to breathe again, Phil let him in and got him settled. With Clint’s jacket and helmet in the coat closet (and Phil absolutely did not take a deep whiff of the leather jacket before he hung it up) Phil led him over to the seating area. 

"How's Alice been?" It warmed and soothed Phil like the first sip of coffee in the morning to know Clint was genuinely interested in Alice's progress.

"Over all very well, she's downstairs with Skye, our live in nanny. As far as signing? Taking baby steps. But some days I feel like it's one step forward, two steps back. If she tries a sign I don't know, she gets frustrated and I never see that sign again." Phil explained as they settled in on the couch. 

"Ok. New strategy, today we'll focus on the most likely signs and phrases you'll need for Alice." 

So they got started, tackling phrases like bedtime, clean your room, school time and various foods. Phil also insisted on learning the sign for manners which he thought Clint got a bit of a kick out of. Things went well. 

Until...they went great. 

It started when Alice made an appearance. She came up from below, looked around and when she caught site of the pair, grinned widely. She pranced over to them and threw her arms around Clint's chest. Clint wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Oh, hey kiddo," he said while gesturing with his other hand. She pulled away and began to clap her hands in a specific pattern which Phil assumed was something Clint did in his class. 

Phil shook his head. "Not right now," he told her. He was told early on that with enough time and exposure she would learn to read lips.

Clint offered the sign for later, but then told Phil, "I have an idea." He reached into his bag and pulled out an old iPod, a second generation Nano and earbuds. He flipped through the iPod, presumably to find an appropriate playlist before setting Alice down and giving it to her.

"Can she hear it like that?" Phil inquired as he curiously watched her bop her head to the music. 

"Not like you do, it's a bit like...Well, if you were to turn the base and volume all the way up in your car, and treble down. You would feel your body vibrate with the beat." Clint explained. 

"Is that all music?" Phil was well aware there was so much he didn't know, but he wanted to.

"Most music, yeah. But, personally I like metal. Or rap if my hearing aids are out so I just get the only the beat, electronica can be good too. The heavier the beat the better." 

Phil quirked an eyebrow, "You've turned my little girl into a head banger? She'll be in a satanic cult by age 7." Phil said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Clint giggled and pointed to said girl. "What she's listening too is F.R.A.M. I think Nat said it's a ...Scandinavian, medieval, folk, alternative metal band? Or something like that." Clint told him with a shrug. 

Phil stared at him in a mix of confusion and disbelief. 

Clint chuckled "I know, right?"

They continued their lesson while Alice jammed away. She watched them curiously as they signed. A while later she signaled to Phil she was hungry by opening her mouth and pointing inside. Phil decided to give something a try, and prayed it didn't backfire. He signed, 'you want what?' 

She frowned a moment before surrendering and made the sign for pizza. Phil smiled, nodded and hugged her, she looked quite pleased as well. It didn't matter that it wasn't even four, yet alone dinner time. He wanted to encourage her signing. Then briefly left to call in their order, and on a whim added an extra pie. 

When he returned, Alice was nowhere in sight. "Apparently after the promise of food we are no longer of use to her." Phil conceded. Clint snickered. Phil realized he could really get used to the sound of Clint's laughter.

"I'm pretty sure she’s holed up in her room with the iPod. Though she did ask first," Clint said, filling him in. 

They continued signing, though since their time was almost up they went in to a review of the week. But apparently a higher being in the form of a furry trouble maker agreed with Skye, and felt it was time for an intervention. 

It happened so fast he didn't know what hit him until after he was lip to lip with the star of his nightly fantasies. One minute they were reviewing numbers, the next, Clint was in his lap clutching his shoulders for dear life, face pressed to his chest. 

Phil’s brain vaguely registered a shout of "Rat!" And something small and ginger flying through the air.

Phil acted on instinct, slowly rubbing circles on Clint's back whispering comfort in his ear. "It's alright. You're alright. It's just Lola, she's Skye's pet rat. She just wanted to say hello." He continued stroking until Clint's body visibly relaxed and his head rested on Phil's shoulder. 

"Pet rat?" Clint mumbled into his neck.

Shivers ran down Phil's spine. "Yes, she's a pet." Phil assured him. "Afraid?" Phil asked. 

Clint scoffed at the question and began to pick up his head as he spoke. "No. Pet is fine. She just caught me off..." Clint stopped mid sentence when he came nose to nose with Phil. What happened next was all a blur. All Phil's brain could register was finally feeling Clint's lips against his own. And this was an opportunity he didn’t waste. 

What started out as a gentle pressure, the sliding of one man's lips against the other's quickly evolved into a passionate frenzy. While sweet and gentle was nice, it wasn't enough for either of them on the off chance this was a fluke. 

Phil had barely begun to sweep his tongue against Clint's lips when he was granted access. First, slowly caressing Clint's tongue with his own in hopes of conveying how he wanted to cherish him, slowly pulling him apart, piece by piece. Phil savored the feel of Clint’s tongue against his own and committed to memory the taste of Clint’s mouth. There was a hint of sweet vanilla, bringing to mind images of Clint sensually licking an icecream cone which had Phil moaning into the kiss.

Clint responded with an answering low groan that Phil felt in his chest. Clint was apparently a very impatient man, because he quickly took control of the kiss by roughly thrusting his tongue against Phil's. It spoke clearly of all dirty filthy things Clint had planned for him, which was fine by Phil. 

Eventually, breathing became an issue and they reluctantly pulled apart. Of all the things Phil could have said at the end of such a wondrous and passionate kiss, what came out was. "Dinner?"

Clint blinked as though a spell had suddenly been broken. "Uh,yeah. Should be here soon."

Phil shook his head seemingly to clear the fog. It didn't seem to work because all that came out was a simple. "Out?" Words were clearly not his friends. 

"No. They're delivering." Clint began to look suspicious. 

Phil was going to try one more time, giving his head a final shake. "Date."

Realization began to dawn on Clint but he wasn't given a chance to respond because Phil finally got the words out. "Clint, will you go out with me? On a date."

This time it seemed Clint was the one bitten by the stutter bug, or perhaps he just resorted to ASL grammar. "Yes. Me, you, date. Good.” Though he quickly recovered enough to clarify himself. "I'd love to." He grinned at Phil, mimicking Phil's sudden beaming smile. 

Before Phil had the chance to confirm this was not a dream, Clint tensed once more, staring over Phil's shoulder. Phil turned his head to see Lola perched on the back of the black leather couch. "Hi there, sweet girl. Are you causing trouble?" Phil asked the fur covered culprit. He'd be sure to give her a spoonful of yogurt later for a job well done. 

"She's kinda cute when she's not trying to climb into my pants."

*Lucky rat bastard* Phil thought. 

"Lola, huh?" Clint asked as he picked her up to cradle her between their chest to scratch her belly. Their compromising position long forgotten. "Uh, hey Phil? I don't know much about rat anatomy, but I'm pretty sure Lola is a Logan."

Phil smiled, Skye's unique personality often caught people off guard. "Only biologically." Phil supplied.

Clint was once again confused. "You have a transgender rat?" He asked in disbelief.

"Well Skye named her, called her 'she', even put her in pink bows-which she adored by the way- before we knew it was anatomically incorrect. And after? Well, she thought it was fitting, because the song 'Lola' by the Kinks. So it stuck." Phil explained. 

Just then a feminine voice echoed through the room. "Hey boss! Have you seen...There you are! Friendly little thing isn't she? Just wanted to greet the guest." Skye marched over and scooped up the ginger delinquent. Her only comment to their position with Clint still firmly settled in Phil’s lap was, "As you were gentlemen." With a wink, she turned to retreat down the dimly lit stairs, furry interloper in hand. 

It was settled that Phil and Clint would have their first date a week from that day. Not that it was soon enough for either of them. Phil invited Clint to stay for dinner - with a promise of amazing things to come burning in his eyes and oozing from his lips - assured Clint that this was not the date. 

Later that evening as Clint walked down the steps of the brown stone toward his bike, Phil stopped him with one last question. "There is one sign she keeps using that I don't know. What is this?" He asked as he spread his five fingers out and touched his thumb to his forehead.

Grinning goofily Clint answered, "Oh that? That's the sign for dad." Then with a wave, he turned back to his bike, hopped on and drove off. Which worked out well, because that way he couldn't see the tears filling Phil's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all my Readers, kudo-ers, reviewers, and subscribers, you all make this happen. I'm feeling the love!
> 
> Come play with me on tumbler! thepurpletie797


	7. Radioactive Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and clint have their first date. No hazmat suits necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gigantic thank you to my new Beta Lillyjk. She has done an amazing job at Beta, even rechecking the already posted chapters (the re-edited versions are going up tonight.) Korean tacos for Lillyjk! 
> 
> Okay, so I kept telling myself that i would not update till friday, or i finishe 11, but i recieved so much love on chapter 6 in way of reviews that I couldnt resist. I will admit this story is constanly growing in word count and plot, its getting overwhelming. But your reviews give me strength to chug along. So with out further adue please read on and enjoy sass and fluff.

Chapter 7  
Radioactive Roses

 

In the week leading up to the long awaited date, Phil and Clint's skype sessions continued on but with more flirting and a lot more ‘getting to know you’ conversation thrown in. There was barely a night they didn't run over by at least an hour although they had forgone the Saturday session so Phil could spend time with Alice before their date that evening.

 

"Nat! Why can't I dress myself?" Clint whined as he flopped down on the bed beside a pair of dark wash jeans. 

"Because I don't hate you," called a disembodied voice from his closet. 

Clint's date was less than an hour away and he was still in his grey cotton boxer briefs fresh out of the package. Nat even did something with a dryer sheet to make them smell nice. He was instructed not to fart in them. Oh, the woes of trying to get laid by a super sexy classy tattooing badass bad boy, who wasn't really a bad boy, but still a total badass. And, oh my God, those tattoos! Clint just wanted to trace them with his tongue all night.

"Did you know he thought we were a couple?” Clint asked staring at the ceiling. 

"Ew!" Nat called back. 

Clint chuckled, "I know, right?" 

A tuft of red hair poked out from behind the door. "But, you do realize that means if you had just made a move sooner, you wouldn't have pined for over a month." 

Clint sighed he knew better than to argue, especially when he had been forbidden from ever saying *that* again. 

"Now, where did you say he was taking you?" Natasha asked with her hands on her hips. 

"He didn't, just that it was his favorite place and nothing too fancy or formal."

Natasha returned to the closet and reemerged with something in hand, holding it out to him like it was the cure for cancer. "This is it. Put these on with those jeans." She instructed. 

Clint sat up to take them from her. "Ya know, I've done this before with some success." 

Natasha's face quickly lost all emotion. "And what did those men want from you Clint? More importantly, what do you want from Phil? You should know that going in," she told him very softly. 

That was the most unsettling part to Clint. Quiet Natasha was much more frightening than angry Natasha.

Clint leaned forward and grabbed her gently, pulling her in to lay his head on her chest. She offered no resistance and petted his hair, careful not to undo her hard work.

"You know I want more. I just, I just don't think I'm meant to have it. I don't like the casual sex. It always leaves me feeling, I dunno, cheated, I guess. But when I tried for more it always ended in a disaster." Clint said. It wasn't like she didn't know his history, but there were some things Clint just didn't say out loud.

"So, don't have sex," his current cuddle buddy informed him calmly. 

Clint immediately released her as though he'd been burned and flopped back down with his arms over his eyes, groaning. 

Nat didn't take offense but instead crawled onto the bed and curled into his side. "I'm serious. When you do try for more, you jump in dick first focusing on the sex instead of trying to build something stable. Trust, commitment, and communication are the building blocks of 'more.’ Here's a novel idea, focus on those first, then the sex." Nat explained in a soothing voice.

Those actually sounded scary to Clint if he thought hard about it. He did want what came with it, the companionship, and maybe, possibly, if he was really lucky and whatever deity was in charge stopped hating him - love. While he didn't doubt his own capacity to love, who on earth could ever love him? Romantically, at least. 

Clint nodded, a sign to Natasha that he would at least try. 

Nat got up and gathered the clothes she’d selected for him and held them back out to Clint. "Now, put these on. You're getting down to the wire. Oh, and put on your Calvin Klein cologne, not that cheap shit."

When Clint emerged he was wearing the dark jeans, a plain brand new plum t-shirt he didn't even know he had, and a black blazer. Black boots completed the outfit. Natasha nodded her approval, proud of her work. Clint thought he looked pretty damn fuckable himself.

Oh wait, awe, sex, nooo. Maybe he should rethink the whole trying for something more. Taking sex off the table wasn't sounding very appealing, after all, it was what Clint was good at. 

It was at that moment the long awaited knock came. Natasha beat him to the door, so he decided to sit on the couch and look casual and not as though he’d spent three hours getting ready and pacing like a teenage girl before prom.

When Phil stepped into the apartment and into view, Clint's heart stopped. No maybes about it, it definitely stopped. His date’s classy badass level just shot straight up into the stratosphere, and not having sex with this guy was starting to sound like a mission the Pope couldn't complete. 

 

Phil stood before him in black jeans and a lavender dress shirt topped with a beige vest. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows with the top couple of shirt buttons undone showing more than a bit of chest hair. Just enough to kill Clint. Paired with the fact that this particular look showed off his tattoos proved that all gods in charge of dating were out to get him. 

The corner of Phil's lip quirked up as he withstood Clint's head to toe appraisal. Phil made a move toward him, what he was going to do Clint wasn't sure. Maybe he was going to lay a big pre-date wet one on him. Clint would never know because Lucky chose that moment of all moments to make an appearance. The golden retriever came and plopped down right in front of Phil, staring right at him through his lone eye, giving him his biggest dog smile. 

"Well hey there, you must be Lucky." Phil said with a smile as he knelt down to scratch Lucky's ears. 

"Don't let him fool you. He's actually just a squatter in a dog suit who pretends to love me in exchange for food, " Clint told Phil with feigned suspicion as he watched his dog get love and attention while he sat there alone getting no action at all. 

"No, you’re a good dog aren't you?" Phil looked up from Lucky and smiled. Not a smirk or a grin, but a smile that curled Clint's toes.

"You look...nice. You look very nice." Phil said while a faint blush colored his cheeks.

The younger man wasn't sure if it was because he was caught flirting with the dog first, or because he actually meant it. Clint had enough confidence about his appearance to lean toward the latter. 

Analysis aside, Clint fought hard and lost against the effect of Phil’s compliment but felt his own cheeks coloring. "Thanks. You too." He barely managed to croak out. He didn't have to see Natasha busying herself in the kitchen to know her eyes were rolling again.

They had come to a stalemate just staring at each other. "So...uh," Clint stammered less than gracefully. 

"Right, uh, let's get going," Phil responded bashfully. They got up, leaving Lucky where he sat and headed for the door. Clint's furry roommate wasn't having that and followed after, planting himself right in front of their exit. 

"Oh no, Lucky. This is an A, B date, so you can C yourself right to the couch." Clint told his dog while pointing to the couch. Lucky responded with the most pathetic whimper he could muster. 

"If you'd like, we could bring him with us." Phil suggested. 

"Bring him with us?" Clint asked skeptically.

 

"Well, we're not going anywhere he can't come." Phil told him mischievously.

And to think Clint was worried about an overly fancy, stuffy romantic date. It seemed that would not be the case. Clint looked down to Lucky and back up to Phil, his face losing all emotion. "I get it. You’re using me to get to my dog." he said with a twinkle in his eye. 

Phil sighed dejectedly and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You weren't supposed to find out this soon." Phil admitted. 

Clint smirked, "I knew it."

It was decided that Lucky would come with them as they were just walking to Franklin Park. It was a bit before sunset but the streets were still busy and noisy, so the five block walk was done in relative silence.

Clint supposed it was Phil’s law enforcement background at play when Phil pulled him close while passing a string of businesses as if to protect him from harm. The grip was tight, especially when they walked in front of a busy ATM, but the gesture was sweet. 

It was when they stood across the street from the park that Phil announced they had arrived while gesturing to a food truck. "This is it. Caesar’s Empanadas are the best empanadas in America, I have no doubt. Years ago I lived around here and was quite the regular." Phil explained as he led both his human and fur covered date to the truck.

Instead of leading them to the rather intimidatingly long line as Clint expected, he walked to the back door of the truck and just knocked a few times and waited. After only a moment, a scruffy man appeared, greeting Phil jovially and winking at Clint as he handed off a large paper sack and a brown paper box to Phil. 

Phil said something to the man who then retreated back inside, but for only a moment. He plopped a small brown bag into the large one as Phil handed him a handful of cash. The door closed, deal done. Phil then led the way to the park.

It was like the most conspicuous drug deal Clint had ever seen, and somehow it was supposed to feed them. All this mystery and intrigue had Clint liking Phil even more.

They made their way to a picnic table, secluded out of the way of even joggers and families still at the park. Clint let Lucky off his leash to play but the beast stayed planted at Phil's side, not that Clint blamed him. The smells coming from the large bag were positively heavenly. 

Clint decided to light up a cigarette as Phil busied himself with unloading his packages. What came out made Clint's whole body warm from the inside out. First, there was a white linen table cloth which Phil spread out on the modest picnic table they'd chosen. Next, two white pillar candles set two feet apart were placed in the center of table. 

Clint was astounded. They were eating out of a food truck for crying out loud, and yet Phil still went to the effort of giving them a romantic setting. 

Phil reached into the box a third time, producing a narrow black vase with a small bunch of white roses. Clint's poor heart may not make it through the night, *no one* had ever bought Clint flowers, he didn't even know he wanted any until now. 

At some point, Phil had set out the food which looked and smelled amazing. "All right, dinner is served." Phil announced while he produced a giant T-bone for Lucky, tossing it for him. 

Clint was still motionless with shock only managing a “wow" as he took his seat across from Phil, who didn't sit until he had.

Phil responded with a smile. "Glad you approve." 

Clint nodded dumbly as he stared at the feast before him, no longer really listening. There were several pastry pockets with different letters written on the trays that held them, and a few tacos, two bottles of water, and... Uh-oh, beer, here we go again. I'll deal with that later, Clint thought, trying to keep his sudden anxiety in check. He didn't know where to start. "So, uh empanadas, huh? What are they exactly?" Clint asked as Phil began to dig in. 

Phil swallowed his bite before answering. "Little pastry pockets full of joy, happiness, and heavenly seasoning. Try one." He told Clint flatly. 

That worked for him, Clint grabbed one right in front of him and took a bite. Clint's brain stopped working as the flavors of beef, spices and a flaky pie crust hit his tongue. He was too far gone to notice that he’d released the most indecent groan, let alone how Phil's pupils dilated and focused on his lips. Clint finished his first empanada this way. 

When he took his last bite, Phil finally spoke up. "I may be taking a leap here, but I think you may have liked that." Phil said completely deadpan though his voice sounded huskier than a few minutes ago.

With his mouth still full, Clint nodded enthusiastically. "Mmm-hmmm."

Phil returned his smile, then offered him a beer. 

Clint's smile fell and he shook his head, finally swallowing his bite. "No thanks. I, uh... I actually don't drink." Clint reached for a bottle of water instead.

Phil nodded and moved to take the beers from sight. 

Clint reacted quickly to stop him. "Hey, no, don't do that. It's fine if you drink, look, I'm not an alcoholic or anything. I get that a lot. I just never drank." 

Phil nodded and set the beers back down. " I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. Though, it wasn't that you're an alcoholic." Phil told him with a small smile. 

Clint returned the smile. "Nah, don't worry about it. I just...my dad, he drank a lot. One night he drunk drove himself and my mom into a telephone pole. I was 5, Barney was 8. We were put in foster care after that. So, yeah, smoking is my only vise." Clint told him, patting his pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. 

Phil nodded again. "I'm sorry about your parents, did you age out of the system then?" He asked curiously. 

Clint sighed, when he told people about his childhood he got one of two reactions. Reaction one was pity, which he hated. Reaction two was almost as bad, people looking down at him as an uneducated street waif. Here goes the awesome date. He reached for another pocket pastry before starting his story. "No, our foster parents drank and hit us as much as our dad did, and that's if we found a place to take us both and weren't at a group home. When I was 9, Barney had just had enough. So we left. Carson's circus was in town, they took us in. Stayed there till I was in my late teens and Barney and I parted ways." Clint told Phil nonchalantly. 

Phil quirked an eyebrow. 

Here it comes, Clint thought. 

"So, what you're telling me is you actually lived every child's wildest dream of running away to join the circus." Phil said in joyful amazement. "Or was it not as glamorous as I once imagined, and all you did was clean up animal dung?" He added grimly.

Clint laughed. This was not a reaction he ever got before. "At first, yeah, but by the end I had my own act. Hawkeye! The greatest marksmen in the world!" He told Phil dramatically. 

"Greatest marksman in the world? With what?" Phil asked skeptically.

"Bow and arrow," some of Clint's old pride had seeped into his voice. 

"Bow and arrow? Do you still shoot? Compete?" Phil somehow perfectly walked the line of curiosity, skepticism and astonishment. 

Clint smirked after swallowing his bite. "Yeah, I practice most afternoons after school. And it's not really competing if you never miss." 

Phil didn't look completely convinced.

The men continued to devour the various hand held food stuffs Phil acquired as they chatted. Phil told Clint about his uneventful childhood but how badly his father reacted to Phil pursuing art as a college major. Of course, his father reacted worse to him coming out gay in his early twenties by refusing to support his education further, which was how he ended up in the army. Phil told him about Nick, and how he had practically kidnapped him to work at S.H.I.E.L.D. 

The conversation was easy, effortless and flowed smoothly. Clint hadn't talked to anyone aside from Nat this openly and easily before. They continued this way until there was one empanada left. Oddly enough, Clint thought it may have migrated toward him as the evening progressed.

“There's one left. You should have it." Phil suggested. The twinkle in his eye made Clint think he might have ulterior motives. 

"No way, wrap me in foil and throw me in the oven. I'm stuffed." Clint told him as he patted his belly. 

"Are you sure you don't want to try it?" Phil asked as he broke off a piece and held it to Clint's lips. The way he leaned forward made his shirt gape open at the collar, exposing chest hair and edges of tattoos, which 'Clint Jr' found very interesting. 

Clint couldn't stop himself, he leaned forward and closed his lips around the morsel and Phil's fingers, and because he's such a little shit, he pulled it into his mouth with his tongue caressing Phil's fingers in the process. Clint thought it was probably more tortuous for him. He had been doing fine with his celibate date, having the time of his life. And then he’d had to remind himself it was a celibate date. Damn it all. 

But then the flavors hit his taste buds as he began to chew. Clint's eyes widened and he released a moan so inappropriate, it probably caused the death of several nuns worldwide. "Holy Mary on a grilled cheese! Is this pizza!?" Clint asked excitedly.

Phil just nodded and smiled, though obviously affected by Clint's display. Phil relinquished the rest of the pastry to him. Clint dug right in.

"Mmm. Oh God. I'm gonna marry these empanadas. They're amazing." He declared between bites.

"Congratulations. Who should I address the wedding gift to? Mr & Mr Barton, Mr & Mr empanada? Or will it be empanada-Barton. Wait are we even sure it's a male empanada?" Phil said with endearing snark.

Clint hummed with enjoyment. "I don't care. I'll totally be homo-flexible for this empanada." 

Phil chuckled. "I'll leave you to your honeymoon and be right back." 

Clint barely registered a word he said and just kept eating his heavenly food fusion pastry. After he finished off his gourmet pizza pocket he flopped on to his bench and stared up at the sky. With the sunset, it looked remarkably like strawberry lemonade, the real homemade stuff that Nat made in the summer, not the powder crap. Clint's eyes slowly drifted shut as he enjoyed the cool fall breeze. 

He didn't know how long he'd been laying there when he heard a voice. “Oh. Did I kill you?” When Clint opened his eyes, the sky was dark and Phil stood above him with his smile that wasn't quite a smile. 

“Nah, just a food coma,” Clint told him as he sat up facing him. Once he was upright he got a good look at Phil, he had rolled his sleeves down and buttoned them, though his collar was still unbuttoned (thank God) and he held a small white paper bag. 

“So, I guess there's no room for a chocolate chip espresso cookie sandwich with cannoli filling is there?” Phil asked as he sat next to him, and reached into the bag for a cookie. 

Clint quickly commandeered the confection. “Don't be hasty. I have a separate stomach just for pizza and dessert,” he said before taking a large bite. It tasted very much like a mochaccino. They ate their dessert in relative silence by the flickering candle light, with only small sounds of bliss coming from Clint. 

When they finished, Clint stretched upwards then flopped sideways onto Phil's shoulder. “Ok, now you've killed me.” Clint announced as he rested his head on the nearest shoulder available. It was a nice place to be, he felt safe this close to Phil. It helped that he was far too full to be turned on. 

“I can't really say I'm sorry about it.” Phil told him as he pulled his right leg between them to straddle the bench while jostling Clint as little as possible. Clint took the hint and pulled his right leg over as well, snuggling back against Phil's chest. When he was settled Phil gently wrapped his arms around Clint's middle pulling him closer. Clint could now smell the man behind him, he smelled like expensive cologne and pencils. Paired with the feel of Phil’s firm body and strong arms, it was starting to override the fullness of Clint's stomach. To fight the urge to turn around and maul him, Clint turned his head to the right to get a breath of fresh air. 

When Clint saw the flowers his heart completely stopped beating. He was so dead he was pretty sure if he took his boot off he would find a toe tag. The roses were glowing. “Uh, hey Phil? I think the flowers are radioactive.” Clint felt Phil's chuckle through his whole body. 

Phil turned his head toward the supposedly toxic flora. “Oh, no. They're Iceberg Roses, they're supposed to do that. They were my sister’s favorite. Gardening was the only thing she loved more than work. At least until they were both topped by Alice. These flowers always brought her so much peace.” 

Clint didn't respond, he was too enthralled with the illuminated flora. They looked so ethereal, like something that belonged in Lord of the Rings or a Disney movie - not on a picnic table in the park. 

Maybe Phil's sister was onto something, maybe there was something magical about them, because at that moment Clint had never felt more at peace this close to another man. This was officially the best date he’d ever been on. Phil had made him feel special, wanted, and well, Clint could almost believe he actually mattered.

It was nice. New, and even a little scary, like a twilight zone episode, but nice. He was trying not to get his hopes up but damn it all if he didn't do everything in his power to fight for it. If that meant no sex, so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, yes those a roses are real, and they really do glow at night (they reflect the moonlight) I will have a garden of them one day!
> 
> Caesars empanadas & the pizza empanada- also very realy. While I've never been they were one of the most popular food trucks in Brooklyn. If you are in the area and get to check them out come tell me what you think
> 
> The cookies- they are The Godfather cookies from La Bella Torte a top rated food truck in Brooklyn. 
> 
> Oh and New Parks from ch 3- top rated pizza place in Queens
> 
> FRAM- is amazing. There is a link to my favorite song on my tumblr. 
> 
>  
> 
> A big thank you to all my Readers, kudo-ers, reviewers, and subscribers, you all make this happen. I'm feeling the love!
> 
> Come play with me on tumbler! thepurpletie797 (I'm actually brand new to tumblr and have no idea what Im doing. Someone come teach me!)


	8. Better Than Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil swore Clint would be the one person, aside from Alice, that he would never let himself fail to protect. Failure was no longer an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I cried when I read this to my friend. Actually i cried, thenI laughed so I wouldnt cry, and this continued for a few paragraphs. Irefuse to say if those tears were caused by fluff or angst.
> 
>  
> 
> Look at me, I cant stop myself from updating!
> 
> A gigantic thank you to my new Beta Lillyjk. She has done an amazing job at Beta, Irish soda bread for Lillyjk! 
> 
>  
> 
> Expect updates once a week.
> 
> If any of my facts are wrong or offensive, I'm sorry, please let me know.
> 
> Now read, review, and enjoy.

Chapter 8  
Better Than Cookies

Phil quietly left the princess’s kingdom, closing the door behind him gently. They had definitely made progress even if it was still just a few more signs. It had only been a little more than two weeks since he acknowledged that she called him dad, but things had seemed to get a bit easier. The smallest win was still a win in his book. 

Halfway down the short hall his phone dinged with a text from Clint letting him know he was there. Since their first date, they had been spending as much time together as possible. Not that it was very much, what with their almost opposite schedules. Clint had started coming over a few evenings a week right as Phil got home and left to be back home around midnight. 

With that in mind, Phil tried to go to Brooklyn on the weekends. Most other nights when neither was possible, they skyped. While their typical ASL session pattern had quickly dissolved, Clint always made sure to teach him new signs and almost always signed while he spoke. 

Phil quickly made his way through the hall and living room to the front door. “I don't need Jesus because I'm a demon from hell, which also means I hate Boy Scouts,” he said as soon as he opened the door, knowing full well who it was. 

Clint smirked at him, “Good thing I'm a Girl Scout.” 

Phil smirked back. “That's ok, I like Girl Scouts, they have cookies,” he teased as he pulled Clint through the doorway and into his arms. 

“Oh, I've got something better than cookies.” Clint said suggestively as he returned Phil's embrace. 

Phil's blood began to warm at the images that comment brought to life. His lips ghosted over Clint’s in greeting. He knew if he allowed himself more than that, they would never make it out of the foyer. Clint's warm, hard body in his arms was making it very hard, or it would if he didn't pull away soon. Phil took a deep breath to ready himself for the tragic loss of body heat and caught a whiff of cinnamon, spicy and earthy, as well as something distinctly sweet.

“Mmm, I do smell cookies. And since it's you, that's definitely better.” Phil agreed as he threw caution to the wind and buried his nose in Clint's hair to try and get more of the wonderful aroma.

Clint giggled and pulled away, his face flushed. 

It was the cutest sound Phil had ever heard, but Clint didn't seem the type to be shy, though this was all still new. While they had been physically affectionate, nothing particularly sexual had taken place. It was perfectly normal to take things slow, at least that's what Phil told himself. He just hoped he hadn't come on too strong just then. The last thing he wanted to do was make Clint uncomfortable. Though to be fair, Phil's higher brain functions seemed to cease the moment they’d met. 

“That’s not me you smell, it's the something better than cookies,” Clint said slyly as he pulled out a dome shaped, foil wrapped package from his ever present backpack and handed it to Phil. 

“So, it's a giant cookie?” Phil asked while inspecting Clint’s offering. He peeled back a portion of the foil and took a whiff. This was most certainly the origin of the enticing smell. 

“It’s Cinnamon-Raisin-Walnut Irish Soda Bread. I made too many this morning. I uh, thought you might like one.” Clint explained timidly, like he thought his gift would be rejected. 

Not that there was even a chance of that happening, Phil was touched that Clint had made him something, even if it was just extra. Wait, did he say he made this? “Thank you, this is wonderful. I haven't had soda bread since I was a kid. Did you say you made this?” Phil asked as he led the way to the kitchen. 

“Yeah, today was a potluck staff meeting, but I forgot until Nat said something this morning. This was the fastest thing to whip up.” Clint explained casually, as though he were explaining the sky was blue and the grass was green. 

Phil set the loaf on the counter and began unwrapping the foil. “Is there something you need to tell me Clint? Do you actually have an identical twin and I'm unknowingly dating both of you? Because last week you were proud of yourself for only having to scrape burnt bits off of one side of your grilled cheese.” Phil pulled out a serrated knife and cutting board.

Clint chuckled and leaned his hip against the black granite countertop. “No, I can't cook worth beans. Hell, I'd probably burn those too. But I love to bake, and I'm alright at it.” As usual, he signed as he spoke.

Phil began slicing the bread, he took the heel off and took a bite. “Mmm, this is delicious. Where did you learn to make this? You just ‘whipped this up’ before work?” Phil asked between bites.

“Well yeah, it's the easiest thing to make half asleep while getting ready. Oh, and it's better warm. It’s best fresh, but if you microwave it in a lightly damp paper towel for 10 or 15 seconds then toast it, it's the next best thing. It'll only be good one more day, but after that it makes killer French toast or bread pudding. ” 

Phil began following Clint's instructions as he listened to him continue while preparing four slices. “As for where I learned well, remember how told you I lost my hearing when i was 12 but didn't have support until years later? Well, I was in the circus when it happened. Between being tossed around in foster care and traveling with carnies it's safe to assume I didn't get all my shots and probably wasn't as healthy as I could have been. That's probably how I caught something like measles. By the time someone figured out it was more than the flu, I was in pretty bad shape. They left me at the nearest ER and moved on. Barney was the one who came to take me back. He was the only way I managed to dodge Child Services. He was also the one who told me not to tell anyone about my hearing loss, said we’d get kicked out. He told everyone the fever just burned my brain and turned me stupid, apparently, that was better. They all bought it. I was able to get by by teaching myself to read lips.”

Phil's stomach churned and his heart broke. He’d imagined Clint had it rough but this made him sick. No one should have to endure that kind of treatment, especially someone as wonderful and spirited as Clint. Clint hadn't spoken of his past often, so when he did Phil treated it as the gift it was and just listened.

“Anyway, I was usually so angry about everything or just plain frustrated that I spent most of my free time with the only person who didn't treat me any differently. Tara the Magnificent was the palm reader and unofficial camp cook. I mean we had kitchens in the little campers, but they were old, mostly broke, and just sucked. So, if you wanted real food - good food - you gave Tara a few dollars and she made stuff like baked chicken or stew, soda bread and cobbler. She cooked in dutch ovens over hot coals. At first, I just watched. As long as I didn't get in her way, she let me. One day, she said if I'm gonna stick around I had better make myself useful. After one burned chicken she wouldn't let me withing 10 feet of anything with pepper or herbs, but she said I had a knack for bread and sweets. I'm pretty sure that's why they kept me long enough for the Swordsman to discover my good aim. It kept me feeling useful until then. Now it's just relaxing, and it's nice to make something for people ya know? Looking back on it I think she might have known, she always looked at me when she spoke, never said anything about it though.” Clint told his entire story without an ounce of emotion, as though repeating his laundry list. 

That's what hurt Phil the most.

Phil made a mental note to sweep up the shattered shards of his heart so no one would cut their feet. As he buttered the freshly toasted bread, he glanced over to Clint who was looking at him expectantly. He was clearly expecting a reaction, but what? Anger? Encouragement? Sympathy? Maybe pity? He certainly didn't pity him, if anything his admiration grew with each new bit of Clint’s history that was shared. 

What did he say? How could someone treat you like that? How dare they call you stupid? You are the strongest person I've ever met? All the possibilities ran through his head. Phil once made a living on reading people and situations, even if he did fail at it when it counted most. He knew none of those would go over well. He decided to say what he thought, in a way he was sure Clint would understand best. 

Phil gently set his knife down and turned to where Clint stood, now looking at his shoes. Clint looked up when Phil took his hand and brought it to his lips, gently laying a single kiss on his knuckles. He released Clint’s hand with a warm smile and signed his words as he spoke. “I'm glad you have Natasha. Moreover, I'm glad she has you.” 

 

At first, Clint looked as though he'd been punched in the stomach with a cheap shot. But the shock quickly faded to a warm smile that mimicked Phil's own and eyes that were shining with unshed tears. At that moment, Phil had never been more grateful for his years in S.W.A.T. 

After the small mess was cleaned, Phil led the way to his private sitting area off his bedroom. That was often where they spent their evenings so as not to disturb Skye downstairs. “So, you bake? Does this mean you might be open to watching episodes of Cake Boss I have Tivo’d?” Phil asked as he opened the door to his sanctuary.

“Hell, yeah. I’ve actually missed the last few weeks.” Clint told him enthusiastically as they made their way to the love seat, both sitting rather close on one side with Phil by the armrest. 

Phil set the plate down and began flipping through menus with the remote. They went through two episodes while laughing, chatting and feeding each other bites of Clint's bread. Phil firmly claimed it was the best he ever had. In fact, it was Phil's turn to moan lewdly as he ate. 

During this time he noticed they had slowly drifted together. While it wasn't unusual for them to be snuggled in shoulder to shoulder, Clint was usually careful to keep things from getting too intimate. Tonight though, they were down right cuddling. Their arms were tangled around one another, and legs so tangled Clint was practically in his lap with his head resting in its favorite spot on Phil's shoulder. 

They hadn't gotten as far as they had that day at the park since their date. That moment in front of the luminescent flowers had led to a very heated, very passionate kiss - one that had stopped only when Lucky started barking to remind them they were in a public park. 

Phil hadn’t pressed the issue, willing to go at whatever speed made Clint comfortable. Clint was such a sweet boy, Phil thought he was probably just used to moving slow and being handled with gentleness and care. Maybe it hadn’t been his first impression of Clint, but that seemed to be where the signs were pointing. That was fine, he could let Clint set the pace, even if his water bill was close to doubling. 

Phil grabbed the now empty plate and set it on the side table. Beside the lamp on the table was a white envelope that he’d forgotten about the last few days. He certainly couldn't have that. “Oh, I should probably give you this before I forget again.” He said as he handed Clint the envelope. 

“Phil, what is this?” Clint asked suspiciously as he took it.

Phil was a bit confused by this reaction. He always paid Clint this way. “It's your paycheck, for tutoring me. I'm sorry it's late.” Phil explained apologetically. 

“My paycheck?” Clint was beginning to look and sound rather upset.

“Yes, of course. It's what we agreed on.” Forget confused, he was downright baffled as Clint got up and began to pace behind the loveseat, now clearly angry.

“But I thought we were dating!” Aside from the anger, frustration was quite clear in Clint’s voice. 

Phil really didn't understand what had Clint feathers so ruffled. Sure, it might be frowned upon for an employer to date an employee but this was a private arrangement between the two of them, and a simple one at that. There was no corporation to set rules or other employees to accuse Phil of favoritism. “Yes, of course we are, and I enjoy it very much, but you should still be fairly compensated.” Phil explained very gently in an attempt to calm him down. 

“Fairly compensated!?” Clint spat back at him, as though those words were the most vile thing he ever tasted. For the first time since they started dating, Clint had stopped signing completely. In fact his muscular arms were stiff and rigid, veins defined and pronounced, and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn jeans. 

Phil had a feeling Clint's emotions were quickly snowballing to the realm of livid. Phil stood and very slowly rounded the couch and stepped into Clint's line of sight, but clear of blocking his path. Phil stretched out and raised his arms just to his waist to signify that he was not a threat, but also to show Clint would be welcomed in his embrace if he chose to be. 

Clint stopped just a foot away, jaw clenched, and eyes averted.

“Clint, darling, please, tell me what's wrong. What has you so upset? Tell me so I can fix it. Please darling.” Phil pleaded, he was at such a loss and he absolutely hated it. 

Almost immediately, Clint's stance relaxed to the point he looked defeated. He made no move for several minutes. He just stood there staring at Phil's welcoming arms. 

After a few more minutes, Phil began taking very tiny, very small steps toward Clint. After the arduous process of closing the gap between them, he lifted his arms around Clint just as slowly, giving the other man plenty of time to flee if he chose. It wasn't until Clint surrendered and leaned in to Phil's chest that he closed his arms. Phil rubbed Clint's back soothingly as he whispered words of comfort in the younger man's ear. 

Clint released a large sigh before he finally spoke. “There's nothing to pay me for. It's natural for me to sign when I talk, I'd explain words someone didn't know to just about anyone who cared enough to ask. Most of that happens while we, ya know, do date things. I told you I want to help.” Clint finally explained, sounding so resigned. “I don't need your money, Phil. Nat and I are fine.” Clint sounded very adamant in his assertion. 

Phil began to rethink his assumption of how Clint had previously been treated. His mind began to wander to thoughts of abusive ex boyfriends who fiscally enslaved Clint, but he pushed down his anger, Clint didn't need that now. “So, me paying you, that really bothers you?” Phil asked for clarification. 

Clint's only response was to vehemently nod against his neck. 

“Alright. I'm sorry, I never thought you needed the money, I won't pay you, I promise. You don't have to accept that check. I didn't know. I'm sorry,” Phil said gently.

Clint nodded again and sweetly kissed his neck. 

In that moment, Phil knew that if he ever caught anyone who had ever hurt Clint in a dark alley, he’d be the only one leaving. He swore Clint would be the one person, aside from Alice, that he would never let himself fail to protect. Failure was no longer an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all my Readers, kudo-ers, reviewers, and subscribers, you all make this happen. I'm feeling the love!
> 
> Come play with me on tumbler! thepurpletie797
> 
> Oh and if I havent replied to your review, dont take it personaly. I just started a seasonal job and with my medical condition it takes alot out of me.
> 
> I'm trying something new, here is a preview of Ch9
> 
>  
> 
> Clint looked down at the dead butt in his hand, he couldn't stand to see the look on Phil's face any more. It was killing him. “So, what is this? You’re ending things because I haven't slept with you yet?” Clint asked sourly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet i think
> 
>  
> 
> The look of hurt on Phil's face when he said that made Clint want to vomit. He looked down at the dead butt in his hand, he couldn't stand to see the look on Phil's face any more. It was killing him. “So, what is this? You’re ending things because I haven't slept with you yet?” Clint asked sourly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note: ok so im trying something new, i start in Phils Pov, switch to Bucky, then the rest (most of it) is Clints.
> 
>  
> 
> Look at me, I cant stop myself from updating!
> 
> A gigantic thank you to my new Beta Lillyjk. She has done an amazing job at Beta, Irish Thai food for Lillyjk! 
> 
>  
> 
> I'd also like to give a Special shout out to lola381pce on tumblr, she’s been super supportive!
> 
> Expect updates once a week.
> 
> If any of my facts are wrong or offensive, I'm sorry, please let me know.
> 
> Now read, review, and enjoy.

Chapter 9  
Water Companies love UST

Phil sat outside of S.H.I.E.L.D in one of Bucky’s precious smoking chairs. He wasn't smoking, merely enjoying the chill in the air October brought. He had to get out the shop, he wasn't with a client (he had finished his last one early, and his next wasn't due for a half hour) and if he had stayed any longer, he would choke on the waves of badly suppressed emotion that Bucky exuded. Darcy had called it UST, rolling her eyes when she had to explain that it meant unresolved sexual tension. 

Bucky had been on a rampage all afternoon, not one of anger but frustration. It seemed that Steve had a date tonight, and Bucky claimed the guy was too good to be true, and generally not good enough for Steve. Which Phil would buy, if Bucky wasn't nose ring over ankle bracelet for his best friend. Too bad said best friend was oblivious, worse yet Bucky was too hung up on his perceived shortcomings to make a move, had been for years really. Good thing Phil would never be that stupid, right? 

“I swear to God, if Bucky doesn't get his shit together soon I'm gonna gauge his septum from a 16 to a 0 the hard way, and not be responsible for it.” Darcy huffed as she threw herself into the vacant chair. Darcy dug out a pack of Marlboro Black Menthol cigarettes from her bra and lit one up. 

Phil watched carefully, “Aren't those Bucky's?” Phil asked suspiciously. 

“Uh, yup,” she replied while releasing a breath of smoke. Phil gave her a look full of judgment. “Look, when I worked at the daycare, when a child was bad you took away a toy. So, if Bucky is gonna keep pouting and bitching because he’s not dating Steve when he won't even try, he has to suffer the consequences.” Darcy explained before take another drag off her pilfered cigarettes. Darcy was actually how Phil had found Skye, they had once worked at a child care center together. Phil found the thought of both high spirited young ladies in the same room together very frightening. 

“Well, at least you're not threatening to tase him.” Phil conceded.

“Nah, I thought I'd give him another year first,” she told him dismissively. 

Phil rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair.

After the evidence of Darcy's plan of punishment had been discarded, Bucky came bursting through the glass door. “Has anyone seen my smokes? I could have sworn I left them at the front desk. Fuck, I'm getting old.” Bucky asked as he stopped in front of them, running his tattooed hand through his short dark hair. 

Phil wasn't sure why, but he joined Darcy in donning a mask of innocence and denying having seen the box in question. Perhaps she had a point.

“Fuck. Ok, I’ll be back in an hour, Steve forgot his inhaler again, I gotta bring it to him. But don't worry, I’ll handle close up tonight.” Phil nodded, then watched as Bucky took off, getting into what they all affectionately called, the rusty grape-mobile (but only because Steve shot down the Shaggin’ Wagon.)

*****

When Bucky got in the car, he immediately opened the glove box. He successfully produced a spare inhaler for his Stevie and a spare pack of cigarettes for himself. Bucky sighed after lighting one up. He really wasn't his Stevie and never would be. Steve Rogers was too good, too pure, for the likes of him. For anyone really, but especially him. 

Steve didn't need a mentally fucked up Army vet with only one hand weighing him down and holding him back. He started up the car- the one that he and Steve had since their brief stint upstate when Steve was attending Syracuse U before Bucky enlisted - and took off into traffic. 

Bucky always did his best to drive with his right hand. Sure he had a prosthetic, and sure it worked well enough - it was actually a nice 3D printed robotic one. Steve had found an organization making them affordable but it still bothered him. It wasn't him, it wasn't really his hand. He thanked God, the universe, any higher power that would listen every night, that it was his left hand he’d lost. At least he still had art and tattooing. If anything had gotten him through it all, it was tattoos (aside from Steve, Steve always had been and always would be the air he breathes.) 

When Bucky first came to S.H.I.E.L.D., in Fury’s own words, he was “acting like a little girl bitch.” After his first year there, one day Coulson pulled him aside to talk. Bucky had been sure he was getting canned. Instead, Coulson told him if he was going to act like an obnoxious, moody apprentice, he would be treated like one and that Bucky had just volunteered himself to let Phil experiment on him with a new 3D technique he’d seen in the U.K. 

Technically they couldn't force him, but why the hell not, he only had to pay for the supplies, and he greatly admired Coulson’s work. It was a win win situation. That's why he’d come to S.H.I.E.L.D, the artists there were widely known. People came from all over the country (in a few cases even other countries) for a 3D tattoo by Coulson, or a watercolor tattoo by May. Bucky had always focused on the Vintage style traditional tattoos. While in high demand, traditional artists weren't as hard to come by as say a watercolor artist, and yet, they took him.

One Sunday morning, Coulson brought Bucky in for his tattoo. The whole thing was all drawn out, Bucky was never consulted, which even for a guinea pig piece was unusual. It was a full sleeve designed to make his arm look like stone with a quote ‘chiseled’ into the arm, making it look very much like an archaic stone tablet. The quote was in Russian. Bucky knew Russian, so he knew it said “you must become the rock the river cannot wash away.” Bucky also knew it was no coincidence that the only arm available to fit this piece was his left. Later that night Coulson had succeeded in doing what he always did, he brought the simple line drawing to life. In the end Coulson had truly transformed his arm to stone, as though it grew from his body that way. 

Bucky may have came to work with the greats but he stayed because no one could understand him better. They all did, in their own way. Melinda May constantly challenged him, both mentally and physically. Darcy, while she could never understand what he went through overseas like the others, never treated him any differently, or let him get away with anything. 

He’d wanted a job but found family instead. He would need that when Steve started one of his own and didn't need him any more.

****

Bucky arrived at the school in record time. He knew this time of day Steve had his free period, so he could probably be found in the teachers’ lounge. Bucky headed that way. As he approached the lounge, he could hear voices getting louder. He made it to the door, which was slightly ajar, and poked his head in.

The room was ‘L’ shaped with the main section of the room long and filled with tables and chairs, and sofas. Around the corner, straight back and to the left was the kitchen, narrow and long as well. Bucky took one step in the door but when he was finally able to make out part of the conversation, he stopped dead in his track. 

“No, I'm not going to sleep with Phil. No he doesn't need to know.” The voice he heard was definitely the music teacher, Barton. 

While he couldn't hear all of it, he heard enough to know Phil was getting screwed, and only in the most metaphorical sense. That was the problem. It was too bad really, Phil had been in a better mood this last month or so. What this guy was doing wasn't right, he was probably after Phil's money. There was no way Bucky could let this continue. 

He backed out as quiet as a ghost and headed down the hall to give Steve his inhaler. After that though, he rushed back to the shop to set things right and save his friend from more torment. 

****

Clint sat on the kitchen counter in the teachers’ lounge, holding his cup of sludge that passed for coffee. Nat stood across from him leaning back against the other counter. “Look, he doesn't need to know about them. That part of my life, well, it's over and done with, I'm not going back. So, it doesn't matter. He doesn't need to know.” He reiterated firmly, while staring down into his coffee.

Natasha frowned then nodded. Perhaps she knew he was right, or maybe she just realized there was no point in fighting it. 

He was right, he knew he was. Things with Phil had been great. He wasn't going to ruin that by telling him about his past. He couldn't remember a time when he felt so important, cared about, maybe even needed.

He didn't mind going back and forth to Queens during the week. Some of those nights he got to see Alice and that was always a special treat. She was smart and inquisitive, and had great taste in music. Sometimes on Friday nights she would stay up until he and Phil got there. They usually ordered something in and ate while they listened to Clint's wide selection of music. Phil's love of classic rock was quickly being replaced by Slavic folk metal. Alice had started bugging Clint to play an instrument for them. While he did play on Phil's pots and pans with her, that wasn't enough, and now Skye and Phil had jumped on the bandwagon. Clint thought he might bring his guitar tonight. 

They had never explicitly told Alice they were dating, as that level of communication was still difficult. But they didn't hide it either and she seemed fine with what was going on. It helped he wasn't her regular teacher, he only saw her an hour a day. If not for that, Clint suspected things may have been a bit more difficult. 

So, he and Phil had no problems on the Alice front. And the one problem they did have a few weeks ago, well, it wasn't a problem any more. They’d talked things through in the payment issue and how it made Clint feel. Now it was fixed and Clint wasn't going to think about it any more. 

Actually, there was one big current issue. They weren't having sex! Sure, Clint got it. They had been talking, sharing stories. Hell, you might even say they were communicating like grown-ups. After all, they did resolve the paycheck dilemma using words, sort of. But fuck all if it didn't kill him. 

The thing was, he had never been this anxious to have sex before. Sure, sex was all well and good. Who didn't like to get off? But, Clint could just as easily do that alone. Sex was just what he did, what he had always done, and most importantly, what he was good at. No, for the first time he actually *wanted* to go down on his knees and swallow Phil's cock. It actually fueled many fantasies the last couple of months. 

But that was normal, right? Actually getting enjoyment out of being with another person, that's the way it was supposed to work. 

Still, it was going great. Phil made him feel like what he said was important, whether it was a story about his past, a joke, or just what he thought of the latest episode of Kardashians. Then, there were times when Alice was asleep and they were watching whatever bad reality shows they felt like and Phil would just hold him. His strong arms wrapped around pulling him close, keeping Clint…safe. 

Yes, Phil Coulson made him feel safe, like no one could hurt him. Made him feel like his past wouldn't catch up to him, and the future wasn't scary. Safe and cared about and it made Clint just want to get closer to him. 

That is until Phil kissed him, or he kissed Phil, and he found himself in Phil's lap. When he felt his bulge press against Phil's, he would fly out of Phil'slap like his pants were on fire to the other end of the suddenly way too small couch. Well, it wasn't that bad usually, that actually only ever happened a few days ago. He did feel bad about it. Hell, it gave him blue balls that were only fixed by two orgasms. If he kept this up, he’d have to buy stock in his favorite purple dildo. 

Usually he was more subtle about it. He’d stopped chewing gum hoping the smoker’s breath would deter Phil. Clint just hoped it didn't come back to bite him in the ass. He prayed to any gods that would listen that Phil wouldn't realize how much better he could do until after they had sex. 

Clint hopped down off the counter and followed Nat out. It was the third Friday of the month which meant any minute they would have their fire drill. As teachers without classes, it was their job to make sure everyone was alerted and got out safely. Friday also meant dinner with Phil and Alice and Skye. That maybe had a little something to do with why he was so anxious for school to be over. 

 

As they were about to leave the kid-free zone his phone vibrated. He paused briefly to check it smiling when he saw it was from Phil. “Can't wait to see you, I miss you.” 

It was moments like those that had him thinking that maybe, just maybe, his luck was finally turning around. Clint quickly shot back a similar response before reentering the world as grown up. 

****

Clint got off his bike in front of the beautiful brownstone Phil called home. It wasn't an easy drive with both his backpack and guitar on his back, but Phil and Alice's smiling faces would be worth his discomfort. Clint stepped up to the stoop and knocked, waiting for Phil's warm smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and the strong embrace he was bound to get. He would not think of the kiss that was sure to follow, that would just get him trouble. 

He could do this, he would do this. No sex. People did it all the time, or so he was told.

The door opened to reveal Phil...not smiling. He was, but not really, his eyes weren't crinkling. Even when he smiled, that weren't really smiles just a twist of his mouth but his eyes always crinkled. That's how Clint knew it was a smile. But, this time they didn't crinkle. Something was wrong. 

Clint stepped in for their usual greeting only to receive a one arm hug and a peck on the cheek. Okay, something was definitely wrong. “Wow Phil, you look like hell. Tattoo one too many dicks today?” Clint asked as they stood awkwardly in the entryway, in hopes of breaking the ice or cheering him up. 

Phil huffed out a humorless chuckle. “Uh, no. Just been a long day.” Phil replied, refusing to make eye contact. 

Clint knew it was a lie, he just didn't know why. “Ah, gotcha. Well, where’s her majesty? I'm usually getting bowled over and covered in red hair and rats by now.” Clint said in hopes of at least lightening the mood.

Phil always smiled when Alice was around.

Phil rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Alice is already in bed actually, and I gave Skye the night off to spend with her friends.” 

Giant alarm bells started going off in Clint's head. He was starting to get very worried at what this all could mean. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his favorite black skinny jeans, and decided to count the stitches on the tops of his boots. “Look, uh, I know you said you wanted to see me, but, uh if you're not feeling up to it, I, uh, I can go.” 

The response Clint got was not the one he was expecting after the less than enthusiastic greeting. Phil grabbed him and pulled him into a tight bear hug. “I do want to see you, and I have missed you.” It was as if Phil thought he would disappear any second. 

Clint had no idea how to respond, so he just wrapped his arms around Phil's waist, returning the hug. 

“But, uh, Clint, can we talk?” Phil asked as he pulled away, eyes still averted. 

Clint's heart dropped into his stomach and his throat threatened to close up. Those were the three scariest words in the English language, nothing good ever came next. “Yeah, sure. can we, uh.” Clint rasped out while patting his jacket pocket where his cigarettes were kept. 

 

Phil nodded and led the way. Once they were settled on tiny balcony off his man cave, Clint lit up a cigarette and waited to find out how he managed to fuck up what could possibly be the best thing to ever happen to him. He fiddle with his ashtray as he waited. 

Phil had been great about his smoking. He got them camping chairs for the balcony in grey and purple, Clint’s even had a cup holder where he could put his cup style ashtray. Phil had never given him a hard time about it or tried to get him to quit. Only once had he told Clint “You do know, those will kill you right?” 

To which Clint replied, “Yeah, I do. But at least I won't take anyone with me.” 

Phil had nodded and left it at that, and that was before he bought Clint a smoking set up. Phil had never smoked with him since that day at the shop, which was a…wait, hold on! Phil reached for the pack and Zippo resting on Clint's leg and took one for himself. He lit it before handing the lighter back to Clint.

Phil took a drag and released it with a sigh while slumping back in his chair. “Are you happy? With me? Us? Dating, I mean.” Phil asked, never taking his eyes off the dark sky. 

Clint leaned back in his chair letting his head fall backward. Why on earth would Phil ask that? He felt like he had entered the twilight zone, population 2. 

Before he could answer Phil went on. “Because, you know, you don't have to stay. I mean we’re just dating. I mean, you could see someone else if you wanted. Maybe you are, that’s ok. It’s your right.” 

Suddenly Clint got it, it was his worst fear. “Are you ending this?” 

Phil visibly flinched. “No, I...I'm giving you an out, if that's what you want. You deserve to be happy, with someone you want. Someone who makes you happy.”

Clint just didn't get it. Did he actually not fuck up? Or did he, and Phil was just being gentle and nice? “What the hell are you talking about? I am happy, I'm not seeing anyone else. I don't want someone else. And who the hell are you to say what I deserve?” Clint clenched his empty fist and took a drag, then clenched the other one too, not caring about the crushed filter. He hadn't bother to sign since he got there. 

Phil flinched again but never took his eyes off the empty sky. He inhaled deeply from his cigarette and released the smoke with a sigh before replying. “Clint, Bucky went to your school today to bring Steve his inhaler. He went looking for Steve in the teachers’ lounge and accidentally overheard a conversation.” 

Phil paused, took a deep breath, and for the first time that night, turned to look him in the eyes. “Cint, did you really say you wouldn't have sex with me?” 

So, that’s what this was about. That little shit Bucky stuck his nose where it didn't belong, overheard an incomplete conversation and ran to tattle. Just because Bucky had a new girl or guy every night meant everyone else had to too? Apparently, Clint was right the first time. He had fucked this up. “Yeah. Not those exact words, but yeah I said it.” 

The look of hurt on Phil's face when he said that made Clint want to vomit. He looked down at the dead butt in his hand, he couldn't stand to see the look on Phil's face any more. It was killing him. “So, what is this? You’re ending things because I haven't slept with you yet?” Clint asked sourly. 

Phil got up and took the butt from Clint's hand, then deposited it with his own in the ashtray, before kneeling in front of Clint and taking both his hands in his own. “I just thought you wanted to go slow, or you were skittish or nervous because of something done to you. Darling, I'd wait as many days, weeks, or months, as you needed me to. Hell, I'd wait a year if it meant you were sure you were ready. And I’m sure my water company would send you a very nice thank you note for it. But, I would wait. If that's not something you ever want from me, you should go somewhere you can get it. Be with someone you do want that way.” Phil looked like a kicked puppy ready to throw up. 

Clint would feel bad about it if he wasn't so busy wondering who the bigger idiot was, Bucky, Phil, or himself. Clint raised his head and cupped Phil’s face in both his hands while looking him dead in the eye. “You idiot. If your water company is sending me a thank you note, mine is sending you a goddamn fruit basket, and it's probably already on its way. I want you so bad it fucking hurts. Not a day goes by that I don't want to drop to my knees the moment I see you, and suck you off until you come screaming my name.” Clint told him, both anger and passion edging into his voice. 

Phil's expression changed to shock instead of torment but he remained silent. Clint continued, but more calmly this time. “I never said I never wanted to sleep with you I just…” Clint trailed off having lost his guts, and let his head and hands drop once more.

“Darling, what is it?” Phil asked as he began to stroke Clint hair. 

Clint's chest swelled every time he heard Phil's choice term of endearment. Over the years everyone had called him ‘baby’ and that's what he called them. ‘Baby’ didn't mean anything, but darling was hand picked by Phil. It was personal. In that moment, hearing Phil call him darling was what gave Clint the strength and desire he needed to continue. 

Clint took a deep breath. “Every relationship I’ve ever been in, which honestly is only a few, I’ve fucked it up. And the one I didn't fuck up still ended in a disaster. I thought that maybe if I focused on the normal stuff first, the emotional stuff, which I kind of suck at, by the way, that maybe we’d have, I dunno, more of a chance. I just…” There was a long pregnant pause while Clint gathered the courage to continue. “I just really want this to work. I really want us to work.” He admitted as he gazed helplessly into Phil's eyes.

“So do I.” Phil assured him with a big eye-crinkling smile. He pulled Clint into the tight hug and tender kiss that they missed out on just an hour before. “It'll be alright. We both have things to work on, that's what relationships are for.” Phil told him reassuringly after they finally pulled apart. 

“I thought you said we weren’t in a relationship.” Clint inquired skeptically. 

“Well, we could be.” Phil told him with a smirk and a raised brow. 

It was at that time Clint's stomach decide to announce its empty status. “Sounds great. Uh could we discuss this over food? Anything you have is fine, I haven't eaten since lunch.” Clint asked sheepishly. 

“Absolutely. How does Thai sound? Phil said with another eye-crinkling smile. 

Man, oh man, did Clint love those smiles. Clint followed Phil inside, never noticing the rain that began to fall from the night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all my Readers, kudo-ers, reviewers, and subscribers, you all make this happen. I'm feeling the love!
> 
> Come play with me on tumbler! thepurpletie797  
> I have pictures up to give you anidea of what some of these tattoos look like, including Bucky's arm.
> 
> Chapter 10 preview
> 
>  
> 
> With Lola returned to her cage, Phil grabbed night clothes for both Clint and himself, and wished Clint a good night before turning to leave. Phil paused at the door that separated the two rooms. “By the way, you are indeed a very taken man,” he said with a wink before shutting the door behind him....
> 
> Phil felt helpless at that moment, this was one thing he had no power to protect Clint from, but he could at least offer a temporary reprieve from the anguish. That was what Phil set about to do. Despite the last turn with the pipe having been taken by himself, he lifted it from the cupholder where it laid forgotten, and took a very large hit.


	10. Dirty Little Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag warning: marijuana use
> 
> Clint and phil share some dirty little secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to my beta Lillyjk.
> 
> A big thank you to my followers on Tumblr 
> 
> A HUGE thank you and hug to consultingfishtherapist on tumblr who is cranking out awesome art to go with this story. Which i will try to add to this chapter.
> 
> As far as updates, do to my medical condition and the holidays i probably wont update again till after Christmas. After that i will resume updating regularly .
> 
> Your reviews keep me going! 
> 
> Now enjoy ;)

We can all thank consultingfishtherapist on tumblr for giving phil tattoos

 

 

 

Chapter 10  
Dirty little secrets

 

As it turned out, the girls had ordered Thai earlier that evening. They had even gotten enough for “their boys” and left it in the fridge for them according to the note on the fridge. 

Skye had referred to Clint as one of theirs. While Clint found the idea of actually belonging to a family comforting, even thrilling, he knew it wasn't true. It didn't mean he couldn't pretend and enjoy it while it lasted he supposed. After all nothing this good ever lasted, not for Clint. 

Hell, their relationship was barely 5 minutes old. Actually he wasn't even sure of that. It had never happened like this before. No one ever asked for his input. In each of Clint's three past relationships he had merely been informed of the status when the other man had decided they wanted Clint all to themselves. 

Except for Brock. He’d made the decision without informing Clint. Clint had already gone out with someone else when Brock made it clear he was supposed to belong solely to him. Clint was old enough and wise enough now to recognize that he knew nothing of normal relationships. But even back then Clint had been smart enough to know what Brock did wasn't normal. 

Phil, on the other hand, seemed to know what normal was. Since Natasha hadn't warned him otherwise (like she had with the others), he was going to follow Phil's lead on this. 

Clint didn't have a chance to ponder the gravity of that thought. The ding of the microwave and the mouthwatering aroma of coconut and lime brought him back to the present.

Clint followed Phil and the food back upstairs to what had become their own private sanctuary. There really hadn't been any discussion since they reentered the house, but it was hardly an uncomfortable silence. 

It was as if there was a spell no one dared to break. Even when his phone buzzed repeatedly, Clint immediately declined the calls. He absolutely refused to let that man ruin his wonderful night. 

The peace continued through their meal, but that hardly meant boring. They interacted without a word spoken, only signing intermittently as they shared food like there was an unspoken agreement to preserve the magic.

Clint set down the last carton with its remnants of pineapple curry and rice next to the empty spring roll box. He leaned back and slumped sideways onto Phil who had long since finished. 

Clint took a moment to let his mind wander as the food coma settled in. While it was nice to know that Phil was his, that he had a claim over this incredibly kind, and illegally attractive man, his mind was still reeling from the thought. Clint was starting to think this whole celibacy thing was actually… “Holy shit!” Clint distinctly felt something brush across his butt between him and the couch. His body reacted the only way knew how, and he flung himself into Phil's lap.

Phil immediately reacted by wrapping his arms firmly around Clint. “You know, we should really stop meeting like this. On second thought, no, this is more than acceptable.”

In Clint's startled state the humor was lost on him. “Phil, you have a ghost! And it just groped me!” He blurted out as soon as his lungs worked again. 

Clint felt Phil rub his back and saw him sigh in defeat. “Ah yes, that's Pietro, I've told him time and time again to keep his exoplasm to himself. Though I assure sure you he's quite friendly, but you have first hand experience now don't you?” Phil said dryly.

Any other time Clint would have totally been on board with the joke, but not this time. “Im serious! I’ve been violated!”

Phil’s expression was now unreadable. “Well, not by me. I promise, we wouldn't be talking now if I had.”

Before Clint had a chance to let the meaning of that promise sink in, the room briefly filled with a bright light and the crack of thunder echoed through the room. It was accompanied by a very rodent like shriek. It seemed now it was Phil's turn to be molested by Pietro the ghost, because he started wiggling and squirming. Certain parts of Clint found this very interesting. Phil reached behind him only to produce… “Lola.” They both said her name with admonishment clear in their voices.

Clint scooped the culprit of the mysterious sexual harassment out of Phil's grip, and cradled her in his hands. “Awe, sweet girl, what do you think you're doing getting fresh with me? I'm a taken man now.” The words slipped out before he had a chance to think. It was almost unsettling how natural it felt to say that. 

But they never said anything more on the subject. Was there even anything else to be said? Clint wasn't sure. He bit his lip and glanced up at Phil. 

He’d turned on the tv and was flipping through local news stations to watch the weather. It seemed he was so focused that he hadn't heard a word Clint said. Relieved, Clint turned around in Phil's lap still doting on Lola. 

“This is unusual, this front was supposed to miss us completely and hit Boston.” Phil muttered, mostly to himself. He grabbed Clint by the hips and gently moved him from his lap. He quickly stood and went out on the balcony before returned to stand by the sofa a moment later. He looked grim. “The water is already covering the streets, and it will come down heavy until late tomorrow morning. If you'd like, you can stay here tonight, and go back tomorrow when it’s safer.” 

While it was technically phrased as a suggestion, Clint knew better. It was definitely a command. Clint was no stranger to someone trying to tell him what he could or couldn't do, though he often resisted. The difference here was Phil was clearly doing it out of genuine concern. Phil did it because he cared and that made Clint melt.

The idea of sleeping at Phil's was an exciting one. Only, sleeping with none of the usual preceding activities was as daunting as climbing Mt. Everest in shorts. Still it was a much better idea than driving his bike through rising water he thought as he signed his agreement to stay. 

Phil ran through his routine check of the house while locking up. He checked on Alice (who was sleeping like a baby,) and made sure Skye had made it home safe. Afterwards, both men curled up on the couch cuddling to watch a rerun of Worst Cooks.

“Like helI, I should be on that show, I've never burned water.” Clint grumbled into Phil's chest where his head laid in response to some playful teasing. Clint was draped against Phil's chest from beside him, with Phil's arms around him. 

During this time cuddling really was all they did, aside from the occasional kiss Phil laid to the top of his head. Neither one made a move to go farther. 

It wasn't long before Clint’s phone went off once again. As he was pulling it out to decline the call, Phil looked on in interest. “Do you think you should take that? It's not a problem?” Phil asked while shifting to give him better access to his pocket. 

Clint frowned at the phone before putting it away. “Nope, it’s not important,” Clint replied resuming his position, but not before catching the look of concern on Phil's face. 

Before midnight, but after several yawns from both men, Phil suggested it was time for bed. A nervous knot grew in Clint stomach. Instead of retiring together, Phil insisted Clint take his room while he slept in his studio on the couch. Although a debate did follow, (as Clint had no desire to kick Phil out of his own bed) it was quickly put to rest when Phil pointed out “How much sleep would we actually get, if that's all we tried to do? Plus, my mother would rise from her grave to tan my hide if she knew I put a guest on the couch.” Discussion closed. 

With Lola returned to her cage, Phil grabbed night clothes for both Clint and himself, and wished Clint a good night before turning to leave. Phil paused at the door that separated the two rooms. “By the way, you are indeed a very taken man,” he said with a wink before shutting the door behind him.

Clint changed leaving his own clothes on top of Phil's ornate oak dresser in an untidy pile. He took his hearing aids out and set them on the nightstand before climbing under Phil's blue and silver striped comforter. 

Clint spent a few moments of tossing and turning to find a suitable position. The giant bed made him feel so small, he wondered how Phil slept in it alone. It wasn't until he found the pillow where Phil's head regularly took up residence that he finally settled down. 

He took a deep breath of Phil's scent, letting it wrap itself around him like a warm cocoon. His thoughts drifted to the owner of the bed, and their night thus far. The evening started out with Clint feeling helpless to stop the inevitable end to one of the highest points in his life. It ended with Clint feeling...empowered, and possibly even a bit secure. Bucky had set them up (even if it wasn't intentional) for an unnecessary catastrophic ending. Instead of falling into that, they rose above it and talked it through, like adults, with words. That was a first for Clint.

Actually Phil had claimed a lot of Clint’s firsts. Phil was the first to take him on a romantic date, the first to buy him flowers (not even Natasha knew they were drying in his closet), the first to actually...put him first. Still, a part of Clint wished he could offer Phil the first that actually mattered, but that was taken by a boy in Oregon behind a diner over a decade ago. 

As Clint's eyelids began to feel heavy, it suddenly occurred to him that's what ‘more’ was. He had it, he finally had more! The last thought that passed through his mind before sleep took over was, now that he had ‘more’ he could have sex. Everything would be fine. 

*****

*Blood so much blood, a woman is screaming, she stopped. Where is Ward? Blood so much blood.* Phil shot up, immediately wide awake and on high alert. After he took in his surroundings and realized he was at home in his studio, his pulse began to slow. It had been months since he had that dream. He'd thought it was gone. The clock on the wall read 1:17 am. 

Phil didn't even bother trying to go back to sleep. He was familiar enough with that particular nightmare to know there was only one cure, and he wasn't going to wait for the impending guilty to assault him before he implemented it. He walked to the drawer of his drafting table and pulled out a small locking box. He gathered the large comforter and pillow he had used on the couch and an old warm jacket from the small supply closet, and headed out on to the balcony. 

Once outside, he wrapped himself in the blanket and sat in his chair with the box in his lap. He entered the numerical code, the first two and last two digits of Fury’s army serial number, and opened the box carefully. 

It didn't take him long to prepare the dried green leaves and lightly pack them into his favorite pipe. It was a marble stone pipe carved to look like a dragon's clawed hand clutching the bowl, scales and all. It had been a gift from Nick after Sophie had passed, though he’d been smoking some years longer than that. He grabbed the torch lighter from the box and set the box beneath his chair. Firing up the lighter, he started his ritual for sleepless nights like this one.

He was only one hit in, starting another, the feeling of relaxation start to creep in, when the noise of the sliding glass door startled him. He immediately reacted on instinct to hide his secret, between coughs. 

There stood Clint, with Phil’s sweat pants slung low on his hips, a borrowed Army shirt, and his own leather jacket. He looked absolutely edible, absolutely like Phil’s. 

Clint’s initial smile quickly gave way to puzzlement, his eyes drifted upward, stopped then looked back Phil with a look of realization. 

Fuck! Phil could possibly be very screwed, they never talked about this. “I can explain, I…” Phil began coughing again. 

Clint smiled and cut him off. “First of all, my ears are out. Second, it's cool, don't worry about it. I’m totally 420 friendly. Mind if I join you?” Clint said, shaking his pack of reds. 

Phil nodded. Clint took a seat in his chair, placing the ashtray in the holder closest to phil, then lit his legal smoke.

Once Phil’s coughs had subsided, he was able to appreciate that a potential crisis had been averted. He would think on that more later. He also noticed that Clint had turned his chair 90 degrees to face him, presumably to allow for better communication, so he did the same. 

Phil set his pipe carefully in his own cup holder while he waited for his lungs to recover. “I hope I didn't wake you,” he said while trying to sign. 

“Nah, I don't usually sleep well in new places, I was just checking to see if you might be up too, seeing as you were crammed on that tiny couch. I got worried when you weren't there.” Clint explained, while signing awkwardly with his cigarette still in his hand.

While Phil was touched that Clint cared enough to worry, it also bothered him. Clint shouldn't feel the need to look after him and worry. In fact, Clint shouldn't have to worry about anything. Phil would be sure to see to that. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I was hoping no one would notice.” He admitted.

Clint took a drag before responding, “Seriously, it's fine.” His awkward signing continued.

It was clear to Phil that Clint was not just referring to being worried. Phil thought it was unusual that he didn't doubt the other man for a minute. He trusted Clint. He continued with his preferred method of relaxation. 

Two more hits in he noticed something interesting. Clint was making a distinct effort not to watch him, when he did it was very clear his eyes were full of yearning, and focused on the pipe. He was almost certain Clint smoked too, but was afraid to ask. That left a very bitter taste in his mouth. He also had to consider the fact that Clint was a teacher at a prestigious private school, even mild suspicion on the right person’s part could end his career. Furthermore he already knew Clint had, at the very least, a less than loving and ideal childhood. Who knew what someone might have done to make that sweet man so untrusting of even his own boyfriend? That word, boyfriend, it felt so right, like there should never have been another word to describe Clint. 

Phil decided to make an attempt, through logic, to build Clint's trust. Phil extended the pipe and lighter to Clint, as he finally released the smoke in his lungs. 

Clint looked as though he had been offered an apple with a razor blade in it. “Uh...no...I don’t…”

Phil decide to press on just a bit. “It's alright. Look, I won't pressure you. But if I told on you, I’d be telling on myself too.” Phil said, being sure to enunciate his words, and only bothered to sign the last part. 

Clint paused a moment, shrugged and took what was offered. When Clint put the pipe to his mouth, Phil counted it as a win, or at least a step in the right direction. Phil watched Clint’s lush lips wrap around the pipe, he noticed how Clint's lower lip was fuller than the top. God, how he just wanted to nibble on those lips. He was so mesmerized by his partner in crime, he barely noticed the pipe and lighter being passed his way. “So much for cigarettes being your only vice.” Phil commented while making eye contact with Clint, before starting his turn.

“Uh-uh, I said *smoking* was my only vice. Doesn't matter what it is, well except crazy shit like crack. But all the other stuff I do, cigarettes, pot, cigars.” Clint told him. 

Phil released his smoke with only a single cough. “Hookah?” He asked before his second puff of his turn. When Clint clearly didn't understand, (he was certain that word wasn't covered in ASL 101) he pulled his phone out and pulled up a picture. The herb seemed to already be having an effect on Clint because he just smiled and nodded.

He really did have the prettiest smile… like a Christmas tree. Phil bit back a laugh at that thought, clearly the pot was doing its work. Clint even shook like a pine in a winter storm, Phil thought poetically. Phil wasn't so far gone that he didn’t piece the puzzle together, eventually. “Fuck, Clint I’m sorry, you must be freezing.” Phil exclaimed as he began to stand.

Clint shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine.” He insisted. 

“You only think you're fine.” Phil told Clint. Phil pulled him into his lap and wrapped them both in the large thick blanket. 

“Hm, well okay, if you must.” Clint conceded happily once he was nestled in Phil's firm hold. No sooner did he lay his head on Phil's shoulder then his phone went off once more. 

Clint bolted straight up, and ripped his phone from his pocket, knocking the blanket from his shoulders in the process. “Oh, for the love of all things purple!” Clint shut off his phone and violently threw it into his vacant chair. He grabbed the forgotten corner of the blanket and wrapped himself back up. He curled back into Phil's embrace even more closely than before, his body language screaming defeat and resignation. 

Phil didn't know what to make of this. Earlier the thought had crept in that maybe Clint did have someone. Or, he had and just never told that person he was off the table. But Clint said there was no one, that he wanted no one else, and he seemed sincere. Phil would trust him, besides he didn't think that would cause Clint to be so clearly distressed. It occurred to Phil that it was more likely a persistent ex, harassing his love. That he could not have. He carded his fingers through Clint's hair a long moment before lifting the younger man's head to see the look of concern on his face. 

Clint released a deep sigh and dropped his head back down. “That was my brother. I wish he would just stop, this isn't fair.” He admitted. 

Phil waited for him to continue. He had noticed that if Clint told him one thing, he explained everything behind it. Sure enough he was right because after a long moment Clint started talking.

Clint gripped him tight, like a scared child. “I told you my brother and I parted ways when I was still a teenager. It wasn't on good terms. I don't recall all the details of what lead up to it, I deliberately stayed out of the circus politics so to speak. Basically though, some money went missing from the Ringmaster and the camp began to divide, sides were taken, and people left, or rather disappeared. Shortly after things got bad, Barney said we had to leave. He said he had a plan and we would be rich. We left town that night and went to California.” Clint paused, taking another deep breath before continuing.

“I didn't realise what was happening until it was too late. One night, really late - after an unusually expensive dinner - we went to this really nice neighborhood. At the time, I didn't understand why he had me bring my bow. Barney showed me a picture of a man, he said he was a bad man who cheated on his wife and had hit her. He said we needed to do the right thing and take him out, and for me not to worry because no one could ever trace my arrows or his knives back to us.” 

Clint took his turn with the pipe before continuing. “Look, I know I'm not the brightest crayon in the box, but I'm not stupid. I put it all together and knew what it all really meant. Murder for hire. That's what it boiled down to. I'm not saying the idea of at least hurting a man who had hurt his wife, someone who he was supposed to love and protect, didn’t appeal to me. But I knew it wasn't about that and it wouldn't stop there. He didn't take it well when I told him I wouldn't do it. He said we were family, so we stuck together and this is what we were doing. We could finally have a good life. I told him no good life came by doing bad things.” Clint took a deep breath, which Phil assumed was to ready himself for a very painful part. Phil did his best to comfort him through his painful story by carding his fingers through Clint's hair and caressing the arm wrapped around his chest.

Clint rested there a moment, enjoying Phil's ministrations before finishing his story. “Nothing had hurt more than when Barney said I would be betraying him if I left. He said after all the years he stood up for me and looked out for me, I now had a chance to do the same. He did have a point in a way, I suppose. I can't count how many times he saved my ass, took beatings that were meant for me. He was the reason I wasn't thrown back into the system after my stint in the hospital. I would do anything I could to repay him. Except that. I couldn't do that.”

“Not for him, not for anyone. I tried to get him to come with me. I told him we would find another way. He said there was no better way to make money. And it was all someone as stupid and useless as me could do, that no one else would take me, he was all I had. While at the time I thought he may have been right it didn't change the fact that I just. Couldn't. Do. *That*. So, I left that night. The next night I was hit by a car. I made it out ok. But it was him I know it was.”

It was Phil's turn to take a deep breath as he processed Clint's revelations. There was no denying the fact Phil and Clint had their problems. Issues that had to be addressed in their brand new relationship if there was ever any hope for something long term like trust. Phil knew this. Yet in that moment, when Clint shifted their position to reach out and grasp Phil's hand to bring it tucked between their chests, between their hearts - nothing could have spoken more of the bond that had, and would no doubt, continue to form between them. 

Phil knew there was some trust there and he vowed to nurture it. Nothing was a better, clearer sign that the man he loved would one day love him back then how this presently distraught and vulnerable man reached out to him for comfort in a time of need. 

Phil's heart stopped. Did he? Yes he did. It hit Phil like a piano falling from a fifth floor apartment. He was in love with Clint Barton.

He was so mesmerized by his revelation he almost didn't notice Clint was still speaking.

“That was just over 10 years ago. A few years ago he got caught in Georgia. He was sentenced to life with parole eligibility in 30 years. But since then other states have linked him to their murders and after a message left on my phone, I know there has been talk of it going federal. He wants my help. He wants me to be a character witness, to tell people he is a good man that wouldn't do that. He says he's still my brother.” 

Phil felt the wetness of Clint's tears on his neck. Phil continued to hold and comfort Clint as he had been, and gave the brokenhearted man’s hand a squeeze for good measure. He also whispered soothing words of comfort, just far gone on the pot enough that he didn't realize Clint probably couldn't hear him. 

Clint didn't have to clarify, Phil knew what this meant. If Clint testified for his brother he would have to perjure himself, if he didn't he would be (at least in the minds of the brothers) signing Barney's death warrant. With one conviction and other charges pending, it was unrealistic to think Barney could avoid a death sentence. Clint was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Phil felt helpless at that moment, this was one thing he had no power to protect Clint from, but he could at least offer a temporary reprieve from the anguish. That was what Phil set about to do. Despite the last turn with the pipe having been taken by himself, he lifted it from the cupholder where it laid forgotten, and took a very large hit. 

Clint lifted his head from Phil's shoulder, with tear stains visible on his cheeks, to protest. “Awe, hey, what happened to puff puff pass?”

Phil shook his head with a mouth full of smoke, before he used his hand behind Clint to guide Clint's mouth to his own. Clint's eyes widened briefly then closed. When their lips formed a seal that would only allow the smoke to pass between them, Phil blew the smoke into Clint's mouth.

Clint moaned then immediately inhaled it into his own lungs, holding it as long as he dared before he allowed it to escaped through his nose. 

Phil felt his body temperature rise as they performed the innocent yet still very intimate act several more times. They took turns delivering the shotgun till there was nothing left smokable in the pipe. By then the previously functional lip lock had developed into one of pleasure and exploration. 

All the pain and heartbreak was forgotten as they kissed in a sensual lazy way. Between the influence of the pot and each others’ lips, they never noticed the tearing and shifting of the seat underneath them until it was too late. Phil was flat on his back, unaware of the pain that would be present later, with Clint sprawled on top of him. It took them several seconds to realize they were even there. 

Clint sat up first. He looked down at Phil, broke out into a huge smile, shook his head and in between giggles told Phil, “I can't understand you.”

Phil couldn't help but mimic Clint's reaction. “I didn't say anything.” In that moment, it was the funniest thing they had ever heard even if they weren't completely sure what was going on. Neither could control the fit of laughter that overtook them. 

Since Phil had seen to it that Clint had taken several more and larger hits than he did, he did eventually have the presence of mind to gather all incriminating evidence before he ushered Clint inside. He barely had time to set his box down and deposit the blanket on a chair before Clint dragged him into his room. With no words exchanged, Clint made an earnest attempt at undressing them down to their underwear. Since Phil thought naked Clint was a great idea, he helped speed up the process.

When their clothes were nothing but a forgotten pile on the floor of the pristine room, Clint looked down at their boxer-brief clad nether regions with a frown. “Awe, man. They're not working.” He seemed to immediately forget their dilemma and latched himself to Phil's lips. 

Phil could fully empathize with Clint's reaction. It was frustrating that erectile dysfunction was a side effect of marijuana. But that didn't mean they couldn't have fun. In fact it meant they could enjoy each other longer. 

Not wanting to part made getting into bed a bit more difficult, but they did eventually make it. Once there, the world around them stopped existing. All that existed was the taste, smell and feel of the other man’s hands and lips as they lazily explored each other’s body. Time had stopped for Phil. All he wanted was to taste and feel Clint’s smooth waxed skin and calloused hands for all eternity. 

Clint had other ideas. He broke the kiss and slid his lips down Phil's jaw to his neck. He licked and nibbled, then pressed the skin between his top teeth and tongue. Instead of sucking he massaged the skin into his teeth with his tongue. 

Phil released a low groan running his hands down his lover's back. Phil tried to return the favor but Clint wasn't having any of that. As Clint continued his erotic assault on Phil's neck he ran his hands over Phil's torso. 

Phil tried to continue discovering every nook and cranny of Clint's body, but Clint had his own agenda and would let nothing deter him. Phil felt Clint's hand drift down his abdomen till it gripped his only slightly swollen but still soft cock. Phil gasped, he was on cloud nine, his body was alive with sensation. All Phil's brain could process was the feeling of Clint's hand massaging his cock, and the amazing things being done to his neck. Before he knew it his orgasm washed over him. 

As his breathing evened out, Clint looked down at him with a proud smile. 

Phil thought this was his chance to commit to memory every inch of Clint's body and bring him to climax as well. But Clint instead dismissed his hands and settled himself in a way that signaled to Phil the he wanted to be the little spoon. Phil conceded and wrapped his arms around his love. It took awhile for Clint to get comfortable, but after he did they both fell asleep.

It wouldn't be until the next day when Phil washed the sheets that he would realise what all the squirming and the little noises meant. It would inspire both guilt and confusion in him and add just one more piece to the complex puzzle that was Clint Barton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I did alot of googling and what I found was a man can infact achieve orgasm with out an errection, and ith out prostate stimulation. But if google was wrong let me know.
> 
> Thank you to all my readers reviewers kudo-ers, subscribers and my tumblr friends! You all make this story happen!
> 
> Play with me on tumbler thepurpletie797 
> 
> Chapter 11 will contain smut! Like the real stuff!
> 
> Ch11 preview:
> 
>  
> 
> Phil cupped the back of Clint's neck and rubbed tiny circles on his jaw. “Sweetheart, I meant what I said. I’ll wait as long as you need me to. There's no pressure. Just because of last night doesn't mean we have to move too fast. There's no pressure. I'll wait, I promise.”
> 
> Relief flooded through Clint. “But I'm ready now.” He declared emphatically.
> 
> Phil's lips tightened. “Just last night you --”
> 
> Clint cut him off. “Things changed. I'm ready now.” Clint let his determination to make Phil understand seep into his voice.
> 
> “What could have possibly changed in less than 24 hours?”
> 
> Clint looked down and bit his lip. He knew what he wanted, he knew why. He just didn't know how to say it.
> 
> “Darling? Talk to me.” Phil pleaded.
> 
> Awe fuck. The power that word had over Clint was almost a little unfair.
> 
> Clint immediately blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You said you want to keep me.” Feeling suddenly vulnerable and unsure, Clint's voice lowered to a whisper. “We haven't had sex but you still want to keep me.” Clint couldn't meet Phil's eyes.


	11. Things Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut!!! Need i say more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Huge thank you to Lillyjk for Beta, and Consultingfishtherapist for the art work and giving my smut the seal of approval. 
> 
> Happy Chrismahaunakwanza, yuletide, and winter solstice! Just never listen to me again when i tell you my up date schedule :-P
> 
> Okay guys the best way to get speedy updates is by bribing me with reviews ;)
> 
> Now read and enjoy!...and review ;)

Thank you to Consultingfishtherapist on tumblr for giving phil tats. More pictures to come in future chapters.

 

 

 

Chapter 11  
Things Change

 

Clint wasn't sure what woke him, but when he came to the first thing his brain registered was a wild mass of light red hair. The next thing was a critical gaze focused solely on him. 

Damnit. 

Caught red handed by a six year old. He smiled nervously and just waved. He really didn't know what else to do. If Alice didn't know what was going on before, she had to now. The problem was they had no way of knowing exactly what was running through that little head of hers, and no way to clear up any misconceptions she might have. 

As it turned out, Clint was worried for nothing. Alice returned his smile with a large one of her own and flung herself onto Clint. He was almost certain he would die at 29 from a heart attack because of this bundle of gutsy cuteness. He was at least relieved when he realized the important bits were covered by his underwear and she was staying on top of the covers. 

Alice rolled off of clint to lodge herself between the two men, breaking their cuddle in the process. Clint turned to face her and noticed Phil’s eyes were open and he was facing their direction. At first Phil had a warm smile but it held an emotion Clint couldn't place, maybe…longing. It faded so quickly to a grimace that Clint wasn't even sure he saw it.

“I’m sorry, she always does this.” Phil said, while attempting to sign, despite one arm being trapped.

Everything had happened so fast and his brain was pre-coffee. All Clint could really manage in response was a nod. 

Phil kissed Alice's forehead and stroked her wild curls. He then slid himself into a half sitting position against the pillows, so he could sign while telling her to leave so they could get dressed. She clearly understood a little at least, because she whined and tried to dive beneath the blankets. 

Phil reacted quickly, carefully wrapping his arms around her middle and rolling them out of bed. He carried her to the other side of the door and put her down before walking back in and locking the door. Apparently pre-coffee Phil wasn't quite as patient as post-coffee Phil. 

The problem was a part of Clint was sad to see her go. For a moment they were a family, two daddies waking up on Saturday morning with their little girl. Only Alice wasn't his, he certainly wasn't her daddy, and they weren't a family. Well they were, but he wasn't a part of it. They weren't *his* family. Yet, for that moment, it had felt right. Which meant one day, when Phil did find a suitable second daddy for her, Clint's heart would break all the more. He really didn't want to think about what that meant. 

**

It was at breakfast that Clint decided there was really no use fighting it any more. He sat at the table, freshly showered in more borrowed sweats and a well loved Iron Maiden shirt of Phil's. He was nursing his second cup of coffee with the fancy flavored creamer that Skye liked. 

Alice had planted herself firmly in Clint's lap, listening to his iPod. It was the first time Clint noticed her pajamas were actually an old army tee of Phil's just like he wore last night. 

Skye sat across from them with her nose buried in a computer text book (Clint wasn't entirely sure it was in English though) while flipping through a People magazine and chugging her doctored coffee. Phil was in the kitchen making french toast, eggs and bacon. 

Clint couldn't wait as the aromas assaulted him, he couldn't remember the last time he had a real breakfast that he didn't buy. It was all so domestic. Everything Clint ever wanted, but would never have. 

Guys like him didn't get the husband and kids, let alone a nice house. Guys like him, that did the things that he had done, were place holders at best. That's if they were lucky. That was when Clint decided, knowing this would never be his life, could never be his life, that he could pretend at least for a little while. He could pretend that he actually belonged here. In the end it would hurt either way, the least he could do was enjoy it while it lasted. 

The morning was peaceful, there was some conversation between Phil and Skye, but Clint's coffee hadn't kicked in enough to participate. His hearing aides were still out so he only picked up enough from the sporadic signs to figure out the girls were going shopping. They ate Phil’s wonderful food then the girls took off for their rooms to get ready for their day. To add to the domesticity of it all, Clint insisted on helping with the dishes.

It was all so nice. It wasn't his life, but it was nice. 

After the girls left and the kitchen was cleaned, Phil excused himself for his own morning ritual. Clint took this opportunity to put his aides back in and sit on the front stoop for his first smoke of the day. 

As he puffed away staring at the now clear sky, his brain finally had a chance to process the night before. It amazed him how many things had changed in less than 24 hours. For starters. he now had a boyfriend. Phil one knew he smoked pot, and Clint trusted him not to tell. Hell, they even smoked together.

Of all the sex Clint had in life shotgunning the pot was probably the most erotic thing he ever experienced, though he had no idea why.

Phil now also knew about his brother. Clint wasn't really sure how he felt about that. On one hand it was nice to have another person to share his pain with, on the other he now felt exposed, naked even. But it was Phil, and Phil always made him feel safe.

Clint couldn't put his finger on it, but when he was around Phil it was like every wall he had ever built came crumbling down. Phil was easy to talk to, maybe too easy. He had to make sure Phil *never* found out what he did while he went to college. Nothing would end this quicker and Clint never wanted this to end… Ever. That actually frightened Clint. 

He was startled out of his musing by a shadow overhead and a hand on his shoulder. 

Phil sat down beside him with a small smile on his face and wrapped his arm around Clint. Phil pulled him in close and kissed his temple. Clint was relieved that morning's mild awkwardness from the forgotten mess of the night before had dissipated. 

“Morning, my ears are back in by the way.” Clint said as he leaned into the embrace. Phil nodded an acknowledgement

“Skye has taken Alice for a girls’ day, something about shopping being life or death. I, uh wasn't sure if you’d be gone already, or want to go soon. I mean if you want to you can, you were here all night. But you could stay too… Don't feel pressured though. I just thought…” 

He cut off Phil's rambling with a deep kiss.   
“If that's an invitation to stay, I'll take it.” Clint said as he pulled away with a smirk. If Phil wanted him there, he wanted to be there. He wanted this fantasy to last as long as he could have it.

It turned out Phil already had plans for them, or at least something in mind that he wanted to do. While Clint was smoking, Phil had cleaned up his rooms and set up his hookah. 

Phil explained that a hookah was a water pipe that originated in the Middle East. It was used to smoke shisha, a flavored tobacco. Phil had it set up in his man cave. It sat on the foil covered coffee table. The base was green glass and the neck polished brass. The bowl was glazed terra cotta, and the hose was made of a blue rope like material, wood and metal. Phil started the coals then set them atop the foil covered bowl. Once the men were settled on the couch Phil took several drags to get it started then handed it off to Clint. Clint was pleasantly surprised to find it tasted nothing like a cigarette, in fact all he could taste was blueberry and a hint of mint. 

As they smoked, they passed ‘the hose back and forth and chatted away easily, signing when they could. Then a thought occurred to Clint. “So, I was wondering, where is Alice’s dad, uh I mean father… Er biological…” Clint stumbled to ask. He had been curious because not once was the other half responsible for Alice's creation mentioned by anyone. 

“Sperm donor.” Phil supplied very calmly, it was almost eerie. 

“Oh. Oh yeah?” Now Clint understood. Well, not understood so much as he now knew where that man stood in the little girl's life. 

Phil handed the hose back to him. He leaned forward bracing his forearms on his knees. “Sophie was always so full of life and energy. She dedicated herself to the hospitality industry. She started as a hotel maid while in business school, though she later switched majors. She worked her way up and became a highly sought after a luxury hotel manager. Her last job was running The Four Seasons here in New York. But when she worked at The Bellagio in Las Vegas seven years ago she met a wealthy international businessman. They had a brief passionate affair, which resulted in Alice. He told her he had no desire for a child or family, he offered to pay for her to...end things, but if she kept Alice he wanted no part. He signed his rights away after the birth as soon as DNA came back.” 

Clint couldn't believe his ears, how could someone not want Alice. Well sure, she was a handful, and spirited, and stubborn but that was all part of her charm. “Are you kidding me? He just threw her away without even trying? Did he even look at her?”

Phil pulled Clint into a comforting embrace. “It's alright. Really. Well no, ok it's not alright that he abandoned his child. But it wasn't tense or dramatic or even a malicious act. Sophie had always wanted a family. But she was so focused on her career that time just got away from her. She took it all in stride. She was never in love with him, and was more than financially secure enough to support a child. She was never upset about his absence. Well not much, she knew it could haunt Alice later. But she was committed to Alice knowing every day how much we loved her.” Phil said as he stroked Clint hair. 

“Ok, I get it, but how did you not want to kill him?” Clint asked, a little befuddled. 

Phil smiled gently. “Oh, I did. I was dead set on using every connection and contact I had made over the years to do something about it. At first, anyway. Sophie had always been there for me, she was my rock, my peace. So when she told me what happened, she said she didn't want to dwell on it, that his absence would not stop her from giving her child a family full of love, no matter how small. I was there for her through the whole thing, went to all the doctor’s appointments, saw the ultrasound. Nick and I even planned her baby shower, and yes, it was as much of a disaster as it sounds. We moved in together, which worked out well. We were able to coordinate things so most of Alice's day was spent with one of us. You see Clint, in the end it all worked out. Yes, I'm angry he couldn't even bother to send a birthday card. But, his loss was my gain.” 

Clint really couldn't believe his ears, who the hell was this guy, how could he get more wonderful? He had a big heart, and was an amazing dad. Hell, he stepped up even though Alice wasn't his. Sure he was an uncle but he went above and beyond that. But it killed Clint that this man was also clearly hurt by how he had acquired the role of dad. Phil hurt because those things could one day hurt Alice. There was no way Clint deserved this guy, or to be anything more to Alice than a teacher. Not that anyone deserved this guy, but Clint least of all. 

Then another thought occurred to him. “Does Alice know? About her father.” 

“Yes, she asked around her fifth birthday.”

Clint had a sinking feeling in his gut. He knew what it was like to be unwanted. Alice was the last person in the world who should ever know that feeling. “And? How’d she take it? How do you even tell a kid something like that?”

Phil smiled warmly at him. “We told her that she was the most amazing, unexpected gift that Sophie had ever received. And that her daddy knew he wouldn't be a good daddy, so he gave her all to her mom, because that's what was best for her.” Phil grimaced “Not the best I know, but it seemed to do the trick at the time.”

Clint immediately took the hose from Phil's hand and climbed into his lap. He held Phil's face in his hand, looking him dead in the eye. “That's because now she has the best dad any kid could ask for. ” Clint said, far more emotion than he intended slipping into his voice. 

Phil smiled and pulled Clint down to gently kiss his lips, then forehead. He sighed, holding Clint tight. “You’re nice. I think I'll keep you” 

The way Phil tensed briefly afterward made it clear to Clint that this too slipped out. Which made it all the more meaningful. 

Clint couldn't believe it, they hadn't really had sex yet, and this man wanted to keep him. His chest tightened and he felt butterflies in his stomach. He knew it wouldn't actually happen. Knew when Phil learned the truth -- that his boyfriend was just a stupid slut -- Phil wouldn't want to keep him anymore. But maybe that day didn't have to come anytime soon. Clint reacted on impulse, he bent forward to capture Phil's lips in his own and whispered into the kiss, “Please do.”

Phil cradled Clint's head in his hands and returned the kiss wholeheartedly. While Clint started the kiss passionately and rushed, fueled by thoughts of what he wanted next, Phil quickly slowed them down. It became a sensual and deep exploration of one another's mouths. Within moments, Clint's hands began to wander down the firm expanse of Phil's chest, memorizing every dip and plane, and, uh… “Hey Phil, either I missed something last night, or, uh, you have six nipples.” Clint said breathlessly as he pulled out of the kiss. 

Phil schooled his expression before responding, “No, I have six nipples. I hope that's not a deal breaker for you.” Phil moved his hands down to Clint’s waist when he shifted to get a better look.

Clint smiled wickedly as be began to pull up Phil's shirt. “That depends, how sensitive are they?”

Phil's face turned bright red and his pupils dilated, but he just sat back and watched Clint work. 

Clint pulled the shirt over Phil’s head, aroused by what he found. “Holy shit! How did I not know your nipples are pierced?”

Phil watched Clint intently. “Well, it had nothing to do with the copious amounts of pot we smoked last night I'm sure. Darcy needed practice a couple years ago and I was the only one brave enough it seemed, I just never bothered to take them out.”

Clint nodded, and skimmed his fingers over the metal adorned nipples, watching Phil's face for a reaction. When Phil closed his eyes and let a little hum of pleasure escape his lips, Clint took that as a sign to proceed. He dipped his head down and took one nipple, barbell and all, into his mouth. 

Phil gasped and placed his hand on the back of Clint's head. Not pulling, or grabbing, just resting there, as if trying to anchor himself. Clint slid his tongue across all three nubs, enjoying the little sounds he was eliciting from the older man. Clint pulled at the barbell with his teeth then sucked the entire nipple into his mouth. Phil released a low groan. 

Excited that he could get such a reaction doing something so simple, Clint moaned around the nipple in his mouth. He worked both nipples with his hand and mouth for a few minutes before sliding his free hand down to the button of Phil's jeans. 

Phil suddenly grabbed Clint's hand and guided his face up to meet his own. “Clint,” Phil said softly. 

Clint was dumbfounded. First, Phil told him he did indeed want to have sex with him, but now he was stopping it. *great job Barton, leave it to you to fuck up, getting fucked of all things.*

Phil cupped the back of Clint's neck and rubbed tiny circles on his jaw. “Sweetheart, I meant what I said. I’ll wait as long as you need me to. There's no pressure. Just because of last night doesn't mean we have to move too fast. There's no pressure. I'll wait, I promise.”

Relief flooded through Clint. “But I'm ready now.” He declared emphatically.

Phil's lips tightened. “Just last night you --”

Clint cut him off. “Things changed. I'm ready now.” Clint let his determination to make Phil understand seep into his voice.

“What could have possibly changed in less than 24 hours?”

Clint looked down and bit his lip. He knew what he wanted, he knew why. He just didn't know how to say it.

“Darling? Talk to me.” Phil pleaded.

Awe fuck. The power that word had over Clint was almost a little unfair.

Clint immediately blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You said you want to keep me.” Feeling suddenly vulnerable and unsure, Clint's voice lowered to a whisper. “We haven't really had sex yet, but you still want to keep me.” Clint couldn't meet Phil's eyes.

“If you're sure.”

The frustration Clint felt gave him the courage to lift his head. “Of course, I'm sure. What part of ‘my dick is about to jump off and run to you’, now that I found ‘more’, don't you understand.”

“Oh.” A tiny smirk formed on Phil's lips. “We can't have that, now can we? I rather like what your dick is attached to.” He said as he moved in for a kiss.

This time when their lips met it was like a dam broke. They only paused briefly for Phil to pull Clint’s borrowed shirt over his head. Hands wandered and caressed exposed skin. But as Phil savored the taste of Clint's mouth, the feel of his smooth chest, he couldn't help but be bothered that this sweet man had obviously suffered a lack of romantic affection. There was also the fact that last time Clint had felt the need to bring himself to orgasm. Phil decided it was his mission to remedy that, to make Clint feel cherished, cared for, and loved.   
*****

If Phil got to enjoy taking him apart piece by piece in the process, well, that was just an added bonus.

At some point, Clint had taken it upon himself to do marvelous things to Phil's neck just as he had on the balcony. Although it amazed Phil how after such a thorough working over, no marks were left. He couldn't help the whimper and moan that escaped him when Clint's hand found its way into his jeans and grasped his fully erect cock, stroking it slowly in a firm hold.

It dawned on Phil that his opportunity to worship Clint and watch him fall apart was being taken from him again. Phil would have none of that. He grabbed Clint around his middle and shoulders and expertly flipped them so Clint was laying beneath him on the sofa.

“Damn, that was hot.” Clint said breathlessly before lunging forward to once more capture one of Phil's nipples.

“Uh-uh, none of that. I want to have some fun too.” Phil said softly as he gently pushed his lover back down. Clint looked shocked, maybe a little confused, and that broke Phil's heart. But Phil was determined to change that. He began at Clint's lips and kissed his way down to his neck, stopping briefly to whisper in his ear, “So beautiful.” The whimpers Clint made were music to Phil's ears. As they rid themselves of the rest of their clothing, Phil nibbled and laved Clint's neck until Clint pleaded for more. 

“I need, can we, ah… Fuck… Can you...ah, or I can... Just fuck me! Please!” Clint mewled when Phil came up to bite his lip.

“Gladly” Phil replied, his voice husky. 

Clint nodded. “Lube and condoms. I'm totally clean. Tested twice a month, and I always use a condom.” He said while trying to catch his breath. 

Phil was rather unsettled by how rehearsed it sounded. He pushed the thought away to be analyzed later. He nodded as he stood to find the necessary supplies. 

“And hurry up, you have to the count of three” Clint told him with a smirk, holding up three fingers. Clint slid the digits into his mouth and sucked a moment, moaning before pulling them out. He slowly worked one inside himself with a small gasp. “That's one, Phil” 

That little shit would be the death of him, Phil thought. He didn't know it was possible, but he actually got harder. He was pretty sure Chicago S.W.A.T would be there any minute to take him back and use his dick as a battering ram. Of all the things that came to mind to say, Phil couldn't get any of them to come out. He darted into the bedroom then the bathroom, trying to remember where the stuff was and if it was even still good. 

“That's two.” He heard Clint's gravely voice from the other room. 

When he came back with the necessary loot he was greeted with the sight of Clint moaning and writhing on the couch with three fingers sliding in and out of himself, while lazily stroking his own cock.

Phil knew there was no way they could do what he wanted on that tiny love seat. “Bed. Now.” It was all the warning Phil gave Clint before he strode over and tossed him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. The groans and whimpers Clint made in appreciation made the sore back to come very much worth it. 

Phil tossed Clint and the supplies onto the bed. It was a little less gently than he had planned but Clint didn't seem to mind. 

Phil had planned on enjoying Clint's delectable body and sounds just a little longer, only that wasn't what Clint had in mind. 

“Now, please, we waited long enough. I'm ready for you.” Clint pleaded while pulling Phil on top of him franticly. 

Phil had no doubt about that, given how deep Clint's fingers were buried in his tight hole. After Clint expertly rolled the condom on and slathered lube on him, Phil applied some extra lube to his entrance and began to enter the tight puckered hole. Phil guided himself in, relishing the warmth and tightness his lover provided. He started slowly making sure Clint's body could accommodate him. After all, Phil knew he was wider than your average man. But once again, Clint was far too impatient. 

“I'm fine, good and stretched for you. You don't have to be gentle. Please fuck me!” Clint gasped out, while rocking his hips to try and take Phil deeper. 

Phil had no chance to resist Clint when he begged like that. He slid in to the hilt in one smooth, but still slow, motion, eliciting the sweetest whimper from Clint and his own deep groan. Phil was sure this was the closest to heaven he would ever get, and that was fine by him. His thrusts started slow but soon picked up to a constant rhythm. 

Phil smothered Clint's neck, face, and lips with kisses and gentle bites, while Clint's hands caressed Phil's upper body and occasionally tugged on a piercing. He soon noticed Clint mewling and cute little hums of pleasure quickly devolved to frustrated grunts. He would have to fix that.

“My wonderful beautiful boy, tell me what you need, my dear.” Phil whispered breathlessly in his ear. 

Clint shook his head. “Nothing. It's great.” He tried to push out the words between breaths. 

“Are you sure? You don't want it slower?” Phil asked, slowing his movements to a tortuous pace to match his words. 

Clint whimpered out a tiny, “No.”

“Ah, so then maybe you want it hard.” Phil punctuated his words by grabbing Clint's hips and swiftly pulling him back to match his powerful thrust. 

“Fuck! Yes. Yes. Yes!” Clint cried out. He gripped Phil's arms so tight there was sure to be bruises later.

“Tell me, ask for what you want. Use your words. Anything, I'll give it to you.” Phil whispered hotly in Clint's ear before nipping it with his teeth. 

“Please, Fuck me. Hard. Split me open with your big cock.” Clint cried out. 

Phil needed no further motivation. He grabbed Clint's hips and continued his hard powerful thrusts from moments before. The only sounds that echoed through the room were of slapping skin, and the two men panting between whimpers and groans. Phil couldn't stop the praises that fell from his lips. “So beautiful, darling. You're taking my cock so well. Wonderful, my sweet perfect boy.” it seemed that every time Phil verbally worshiped him Clint would tighten himself around Phil, which usually resulted in Phil uttering one profanity or another. 

When Clint leaned up to take Phil’s nipple in his mouth once more, grasping his shoulders for support, Phil knew he wouldn't last much longer. It was only a matter of moments before the tightening coil inside him would snap. When he noticed Clint reaching for his own cock, he realized the younger man was probably in the same boat.

Phil knocked Clint's hand away and gripped his dick firmly himself, stroking it in time with his thrusts, using the clear liquid that oozed from the tip as a bit of lubricant. He tilted his hips, trying to find different angles so he could hit the one spot was sure to send Clint over the edge. It took a few tries but Clint response made it quite clear when he found it.

“Fuck! Yes! Phil, ah oh god, right there.” Clint shouted as he threw his head back, still holding tightly to Phill. 

There were sure to be bruises which phil found exciting. “That's it, sweetheart. Come for me. Let me see you come, darling.” Phil encouraged as he picked up speed, as he continued to hit that spot.

That was all it took.

Phil's name was all the warning he got before Clint fell quiet, mouth open in a silent scream as streaks of come striped his body. The feeling of Clint clamping down around him pushed Phil over the edge. With a whisper of Clint's name on his lips he released himself into the condom.

When his climax had passed, Phil flopped to the side so as not to crush Clint. When Clint began to get out of bed, presumably to clean himself up, Phil pressed him back down. He reach into the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a package of baby wipes. He removed one, pressed it between his hands a moment to take the chill off, then cleaned the evidence of release and sweat off of Clint's body. He resisted the urge to just lick it off. With Clint's hard rules on protection and safety, Phil didn't want to startle him before they had a chance to talk. After cleaning himself up as well, Phil disposed of everything in the bin.

When He looked at Clint, Phil noticed the he seemed nervous and confused. It was as though he didn't know what to do next. Phil pulled back the covers and invited him under. When they were settled Phil pulled Clint into his arms and firmly against his chest. After a moment Clint was still tense. “Darling, what's wrong?” Phil asked as he rubbed Clint's back.

“You said I was wonderful, but I didn't do anything.” Clint mumbled into Phil's neck.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Phil said gently, guiding Clint's head to look him in the eyes. “You don't have to do anything to be wonderful. And watching you fall apart like that, knowing I did that to you, was absolutely incredible.” 

Clint quickly ducked his head into Phil's neck, though Phil was certain he caught a glimpse of unshed tears. It didn't matter because Clint was finally relaxed in his arms. 

“Hey, Phil? Can we stay like this a while?” Clint muttered from where his head was buried.

Phil tightened his hold and stroked Clint's hair whispering in his ear, “Of course, as long as you want.” As they laid there still tangled up in each other, Phil internally celebrated the small victory that was Clint asking for affection of his own volition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who has read, given me feedback, and supported me thruogh this story. Im going through a really tough time and it means everything to me.
> 
> Play with me on tumblr thepurpletie797 
> 
> Ch11 was written just for one of the pictures by consultingfishtherapist. Cant say any more with out a spoiler ;)


	12. He wrote it on his skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo sort for the long wait, my health is getting worse, I got sucked in to another story, and this one may take a different turn than planned. But I will finish it. Possibly in a few more chapters. I greatly appreciate those who have hung in there with me.

Hands Ch12

I wrote it on my skin

  
  
  


Once Phil was back in bed, Clint laid his head on his chest, letting the older man’s arms wrap around him.  It hadn't even been a week and the second time they had sex was as incredible as the first. Still, he was a little confused by some things. It seemed like every time he tried to do something to make Phil feel good, he got intercepted and Phil took over. Both times Phil refused to let Clint stroke himself when he was close to coming. Clint found it all very confusing and a little hurtful. 

 

Maybe Phil didn't like what he was doing. Except Clint had never had a complaint before and that didn't explain why Phil put so much effort into pleasuring him. Also Phil kept telling him how wonderful he was, how amazing. Why would Phil say those things if he didn't like what Clint was doing? 

 

Clint also considered that Phil just liked to be in control, maybe BDSM and all that. Clint could do that, he had before. It wasn't his favorite but he could do it, especially for Phil. But even that didn't fit entirely either. 

 

Suddenly, Clint had an idea. All he had to do was get Phil to let him give him a blow job. He was great at those. Then Phil would see what Clint could do and stop resisting. It was crucial that it work. After all, that would surely make Phil want to keep him around longer.

 

Clint gently ran his fingers through the dark hair on Phil's chest as he realized he had never taken a moment to enjoy the beautiful art covering the man's body.  He hadn’t realised how just good a naked body could feel. Not just in a sexual way, but the comfort of being skin to skin with another person. Clint was relieved Phil didn't mind the postcoital cuddling he had quickly come to love.

 

Even though Clint had seen Phil in a T-shirt or with his sleeves rolled up plenty of times, he hadn't taken time to appreciate all the ink on display. From the waist up Phil was covered in beautifully planned lines and splashes of color. Clint hadn't gotten a good look at Phil's legs, but he'd bet there was some art there too. Clint ran his fingers over a large quote on Phil's chest, done in beautiful script. 

 

“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be defeated.”

 

Clint didn't realize he had read it aloud till Phil's voice joined his own. He looked up at Phil, who had a small sad smile on his face. “That's beautiful. Is that why you have the dragon on your arm?” Clint asked, losing the fight against his curiosity.

 

Phil ran a hand through Clint's hair before answering. “Sort of. That was Sophie's favorite quote, it was by G.K Chesterton. In the original quote it says dragons can be killed. Sophie felt that dragons represented the challenges we face and that sometimes the best way to overcome something was to embrace it. Nick did the words after she passed, I did the dragon.” Phil said as he looked away, focusing on nothing but old memories.

 

Clint had no words. It was beautiful, inspiring, and heart breaking all at the same time. He was starting to realise just how close the siblings were. Much closer than he first thought, that's for sure. 

 

Clint realised now why that was the same dragon from Phil's portfolio. Without a second thought he leaned up and gently pressed his lips to Phil’s. It was chaste and lasted no longer than a brief moment. He was rewarded with a light squeeze and warm smile. Clint's chest tightened at the thought that *he* was able to bring that beautiful eye crinkling smile back -- not that he planned to dwell on that. 

 

“So, do all your tattoos have stories?” Clint asked.

 

Phil considered the question a moment before responding. “Not so much stories as reason. Though the ones on my legs were all mostly to practice new techniques.” 

 

Clint sat up and straddled Phil’s sheet covered lap to inspect him more closely. Clint took a moment lifting Phil's arms and even going so far as to poke a few spots, his face scrunched in concentration. There was the S.H.I.E.L.D logo on the other side of his chest and a koi fish and lotus flower on the top side of his forearms. A watercolor compass was  on his ribs under the quote. What looked like a comic book page of Captain America was off center on his abs under the shop logo. On one shoulder there was a coat of arms -- above it was Coulson, below was something in a foreign language he couldn't decipher. “what does this say?” Clint asked as he traced his fingers across the words. 

 

“It basically translates to, ‘I will die for those I love.’ it's the old Coulson family motto.”

 

A part of Clint wondered just how true those words were for this particular Coulson (though if his behavior with his little girl were any indication, they were the gospel truth) befor continuing his inspection. 

 

Once Clint had completed his assessment he felt ready to continue on with his interrogation. “What the hell good reason could you have for getting a koi fish and a fucking lotus flower? I mean everyone and their deep south grandma has those.”  Clint asked with all the sass he could muster, accompanied by a smirk.

 

Phil quirked an eyebrow, “They didn't almost 20 years ago. I was in the Rangers at the time and we traveled all over the world wherever they needed us for this or that. Not just the Middle East. I saw a lot of lotus flowers in India and thought they were beautiful, it was my first try at color. I was in Japan on the way back to the States just long enough to find the best artist in the village near where we were staying. He was 92 and used traditional methods which took several hours, but the koi fish came out incredible.” 

 

Clint was a little in awe. Leave it to Phil to have an uncommon story for the most common tattoos. The only other tattoo that really caught Clint's interest was the comic book page. “Ok, fair enough. In fact, that's actually kinda cool. But what about the comic book page? Is that Captain America?”

 

Phil’s expression went blank. “I may or may not potentially be the biggest Captain America fan.” 

 

Clint eyed him suspiciously. “Well, I mean it's not like you have rare vintage trading cards and memorabilia right?”

 

Phils only response was a guilty smile.

 

Clint couldn't help but chuckle and kiss Phil's nose. He didn't know what came over him, except his boyfriend was not only an incredibly sexy badass tattoo artist, but he was also a giant nerd. And for some reason Clint couldn't explain, he thought that was awesome. 

 

Clint's fingers continued to caress Phil's chest hair. It felt nice beneath his fingers. He had never had a preference on body hair before, but he really liked it on Phil. He wondered how it felt elsewhere. He slid down Phil's legs and laid his cheek on the hairy chest. He nuzzled his face into the hair enjoying the feel of it against his face and 5 o’clock shadow. When Phil began to hum in enjoyment, Clint inched himself forward. He nuzzled his way up till he was at Phil's jaw, feeling the older man's stubble against his face. 

 

Phil made a small sound of contentment while caressing Clint's arms and back and carding his fingers through his hair. “My, you certainly are affectionate after you come.” Phil said as he returned the nuzzling. 

 

Damnit Barton, way to push your luck and blow it. Clint thought as he immediately jerked away as if he'd been burned. He had barely made it off of Phil when he caught him by the arm. 

 

Clint did his best to extricate himself but failed due to Phil's unyielding but gentle grip. Clint quickly gave up and froze, waiting for the inevitable lecture on respecting Phil's space and boundaries. 

 

Phil slowly and gently tried to pull Clint into his arms while trying to reassure him “Clint, sweetheart, it's ok, I like it, I do.”  Clint finally relaxed and relaxed into Phil's embrace. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.” 

 

Clint thought Phil sounded sincere but also maybe a little...confused?

 

“I wasn't upset.” Clint insisted as he mumbled the words into Phil's chest. 

 

“Of course not, you flew out of bed because you thought you heard someone yelling free pizza.” Phil said flatly. 

 

Clint looked up to Phil with a pout (though he would deny that's what it was) “Yup, that's it.”

 

“Well, I don't hear it, so they must be gone. Now, come back and lay down with me.” Phil suggested as he pulled Clint back towards the pillows. 

 

Before they made it all the way, Clint yawned and began to pull away again. “I should really get going.”  

 

A shadow of concern fell over Phil's face. “Clint, I really enjo…”

 

Clint cut him off with a tired smile. “It's almost midnight and I have school in the morning.” 

 

Phil face was completely unreadable. “You really shouldn't be driving tired. Stay the night I'll make sure you get to school on time.” Phil said, not bothering to sign due to their proximity. 

 

Clint gave him a lazy smirk. “Is there any other way to drive?”

 

Phil rolled his eyes then pulled Clint the rest of the way down. He tucked Clint against his chest as soon as they hit the pillows. “Stay. I won't let you miss your bus.”

 

It wasn't until that moment that Clint realized how tired he was. He reached over Phil and plucked his phone off the nightstand and set an alarm for 4:00 am before putting it back. He snuggled in with his face in the crook of Phil's neck, where he could enjoy the man's heady scent as he dozed off.

 

As soon as he was comfortable he released a frustrated sigh, he’d forgotten to take his aides out. “Ears are coming’ out” was all the warning he gave Phil before he sat up and reached for his ear. 

 

Phils hand shot up stopping the progress of his own. “Oh, uh, before I forget, on Halloween Bucky is having a party, and I was wondering... if you want… we could….I mean, I know Bucky...”

 

“Stuck his way too pretty nose where it didn't belong.” Clint supplied.

 

“Well, yes. I did speak to him. There may have actually, been words, that some people could possibly construe as threats, in the right circumstances of course.” Phil said completely innocently.

 

Clint couldn't help the silent chuckle that shook his chest. “Nah, it’s cool. I decided to let it go for now, but one more slip up and I'm telling Steve.”

 

Phil nodded with a grimace. He clearly knew exactly what that meant. No one could handle the Rogers’ look of disappointment.

 

“So would you...uh, I mean we could…”

 

“Are you asking me to be your date to the little shit’s party? I thought that automatically came with the boyfriend gig. Besides, Steve invited me and Nat planned to drag me there kicking and screaming if she had to. But I must say, being your date sounds much better.” Clint said with a smirk. 

 

“Right, just wanted to make sure we were on the same page,” Phil said completely confidently, which Clint found utterly adorable.

 

Once Clint finally removed his aides, he settled back into his perfect spot to feel Phil’s furnace like heat envelop him. It was strange though, Phil was the first person Clint had ever stayed in bed with, even cuddled with, let alone slept with after sex. Brock always sent him to the couch after sex if he had to stay the night. As foreign as it was to Clint, he couldn’t deny that it felt right -- like this is where he belonged. The security of Phil's scent and warmth soon whisked Clint off to dreamland for what would certainly be his best night’s sleep yet

 

The next morning Clint’s alarm didn't go off till his usual 5:30 am. He woke to find his work clothes and toiletries at the foot of the bed. On top was a bright pink post-it that said breakfast would be ready at 6. Clint hoped that whatever penny he found wouldn't run out of luck anytime soon, because he really wanted to get used to this. 

 

****

 

In the week and a half leading up to the party not much changed, except what did. 

 

Phil and clint still spent as much time together as possible, only now clint was spending the night on occasion. Which Alice seemed to adore. Phil would wake up extra early during the week so he could have a warm breakfast ready for Clint when he got up (Phil had learned his usual breakfast consisted of various sugary cereals most days.) 

  
But what bothered Phil was That those little acts of kindness completely baffled the boy. And when he tried to fuck the boy's brains out and make him fall apart, he resisted. Like if he wasn't pleasing Phil and taking care of his own needs he was doing something wrong. Tried his best to show Clint it was alright to be taken care of, but it seemed it wasn't enough. He had to do something. He just didn't know what. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang with me on Tumblr, purpletie797


	13. A surprise for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art of Phil with tats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay thank to all for being so patient, to tie to over till the next chapter I have a great. The first picture was done by the dear Consultingfishtherapist. This picture was actually the reason chapter 12 was writtenwritten. 
> 
> The second was a sketch I recently commissioned. 
> 
> Nether were created by me please do not download or share with out permission. 
> 
> Enjoy

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/phil_tats_zpsaom0wjoy.jpg.html)

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/tumblr_o5giyivUgt1qasps8o1_1280_zpsvt0fiaqh.jpg.html)

Our boys in bed

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/IMG_0801_zps5qz1guib.jpg.html)

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/images_zps7vx06dao.jpg.html)


	14. Tattoo photo set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> References for the tattoos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a few pictures that were my references for the tattoos in my story

Inspiration for Buckys arm. 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/IMG_0794_zpsiwaw44cm.jpg.html)

 

Phil's dragon 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/IMG_0795_zpsumtigwtb.jpg.html)

Clint with his tattoo

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/clint%20tat_zpsiijbtggk.jpg.html)

OK guys hope you like these real words are coming soon but first I'm taking a poll, would you rather I... 

A) finish this story in 3 or 4 chapters then do a sequal for Phil this summer. I'd probably write it all first then release it quickly or all at once 

Or

B) keep the story going to 25 + chapters no promise on how fast I can update

Or 

C) end it in 3 or 4 chapters and leave it and not worry about Phil's past /issues


	15. Men in Drag Beat Condoms and Lube

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an unseen act of rebellion and self pity he reached his hand into middle of the pan and pulled out a fist full, which he promptly shoved into his mouth. As he let the earthy sweetness coat his taste buds he considered the conversation. But he just couldn't understand what had Phil so bent out of shape. 
> 
> After all what was the big deal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the long awaited Halloween party chapter and the set up for Clint's big reveal. 
> 
> A big Thank-you to lillyjk 
> 
> Now enjoy

Hands Ch13  
Men in Drag Beat Condoms and Lube

Steve sat at their old kitchen table with a college textbook propping up a short leg, the tabletop was covered in newspaper and his paints as he put the final touches on the costumes for the following night. Steve was relieved Bucky had agreed to do a “couples” costume with him. They had done it almost every year since they were kids. Even in high school when the others made fun of them Bucky didn't care. It was one of the reasons Steve lov…. Admired him so much. He was just surprised Bucky wasn't bringing a date. 

Even when Bucky came back to the States with only one hand, he never let that stop him. Sure, things were rough at first but after he got the prosthetic and learned how to use it he did fine. He found the job at S.H.I.E.L.D and had been there ever since. He also cut back on his drinking considerably. 

But that just went to show he was too good for Steve. And why would he want him anyway when he had his pick of beautiful women? Steve was scrawny, not in the best of health, and just a teacher. He deserved a beautiful charming woman with curves, not someone he felt he had to protect. What did he have to offer a strong charismatic man like that? Speak of the devil… 

“Hey buddy, just got off the phone with Darcy. She insisted on taking care of the punch, something about a witches brew. Every one's bringing something so we just need to order the pizza and buy beer.” Bucky said, leaning on the back of Steve's chair. 

“Already done. I called Luigi’s and ordered 3 different extra large pizzas for tomorrow night. They're paid for, we just need to tip. Beer, sodas, and water are in the coolers in the kitchen. Oh and I stocked up at a liquor store I found going out of business for the costume prize. You just need to add ice in the morning before work. And try to leave on time, I could use the help setting up.” Steve informed him without looking up from his work. 

“Thanks man, what would I do without you?” Bucky told him as he ruffled his hair. 

When Bucky stepped on the patio to smoke, Steve let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He thought about the last thing Bucky had said. The real question was what would he do without Bucky. The answer was, he didn't know. But he knew one day they would find out. That terrified Steve. 

***** 

Halloween fell on a Saturday so Clint was able to spend the afternoon and evening at the Coulson’s. After a children's Halloween carnival at the park (where Clint won a purple stuffed dragon at a dart booth for Alice on the first try) they picked up Chinese for dinner before trick or treating. 

A few weeks back Phil had bought an elaborate princess dress for Alice’s costume. Things like that got Phil banned from shopping for Alice. She didn't want to be a princess this year (unlike every year before) she wanted to be a knight. After several hours in costume stores and the Internet they finally figured out she didn't want to be a boy knight. She wanted to be a girl knight. Those costumes did not exist. So Phil did what any awesome amazing incredible dad with artistic ability would do. He sent Skye and Alice to the store for silver tights, shoes, skirt and top, and constructed an entire-girly- suit of armor out of foam and spray paint. Clint really couldn't get over how amazing Phil was. It meant every day Clint knew a little more about how undeserving he was of the man. It meant he was dating on borrowed time that was sure to run out. 

Alice was horrified to learn they did not have costumes and insisted on fixing that. She gave Phil a large top hat with a feather and clint was given the choice between a purple tiara or a pink feather boa. Psh. No contest. Purple tiara it was. They must have made quite the sight he imagined. 

When they got back they sat on the floor of the living room sorting through the large pillow case full of candy, checking it for safety before relinquishing it to Alice. Clint and Phil charged her kit-kats and snickers bars for chaperoning. Not long after, Skye returned from the haunted house with Natasha and Lucky in tow. They agreed Phil and Clint would watch Alice during the day through trick - or - treating, and Skye would pick up Nat and Lucky and watch Alice till the morning. Alice had been pestering Clint for some time to meet Lucky, so Phil decided lucky and Alice could have a sleepover, Clint would be designated driver and Nat could crash there as well. It made everyone happy. 

Once in the front door after a quick glance around Lucky made a B-line for Alice, nearly knocking her over in his rush to shower her in sloppy dog kisses. Nothing could have made Alice happier. 

So far Clint had been having the time of his life, but the moment he saw what Natasha - who looked like a dime in her vintage pinup girl costume complete with victory rolls - held in her hands. 

“Natasha…. What's that in your hands.” Clint asked cautiously referring to a garment bag and clothing box. 

“What? Oh these? Your costumes of course. Steve said there will be a costume contest and winner gets a basket full of alcohol. You guys will win and I'll get your share of the booze.” She replied with a devious smirk. 

“Oh Futz.”

*****

“Oh what the hell Nat!?” 

Clint couldn't believe it. He was standing in Phil's bathroom in a long blue medieval dress and a long curly bright orange Wig. She had dressed him as Merida from Brave. She probably had a wooden bow to go with it. 

“Suits you doesn't it? Come out let us see. I've got Phil ready too.” Natasha shouted through the door. 

Clint yanked the door open. What he saw was the last thing he expected. He was prepared to see his boyfriend in an equally ridiculous Prince Charming costume, (Nat had a secret love of all things Disney) but not that. Not Phil standing in front of him shirtless and technically pantsless. Though he wasn't naked by any means. No, in fact he was wearing a red and multi colored plaid kilt. Only a kilt. There were boots, and a few other accessories. But all Clint noticed was the manly skirt and the dusting of dark hair across the exposed skin, that he loved to run his fingers over. Well damn. He was only broken out his appreciation for the costume by the sound of the wearer's voice. 

“Well if I'd known she was going to put you in that I wouldn't have bothered changing. I could just go as a straight man.”

“Ha ha, really funny. No way, if I'm wearing this you can go topless for a night.”

Sure enough Natasha did have a toy bow for him, and after that they were on their way. But any hopes that anyone had that the rest of the evening would go smoothly were quickly disregarded. 

***

“Would you two take your jackets off?”

Natasha insisted more than begged, while tugging at the sleeve of Clint's borrowed coat. 

Clint had lucked out that Phil had a full length trench coat for each of them, that they were each reluctant to relinquish to the red head. But after a few minutes they inevitably lost the battle; as anyone who would dare start a dispute with the lovely Russian would.

Though fight was exactly the word that came to mind when he felt a large masculine hand on his hip. In fact it was panic that set in the moment that he realised the hand was not of his lover who stood in front of him. It wasn't that he was scared per se, but his brain immediately set itself to work conjuring ways of making it clear.

“Hey doll, haven't seen you before.” The masculine voice called smoothly over his shoulder. 

Before he ever had a chance to put any plan into action his lover beat him to the punch. His stern expression made it clear he saw the distress on Clint's face. 

“Barnes, if you want to keep the hand you have left I suggest you move it off my boyfriend.”

The hand recoiled as fast as if it were burned when Clint turned around to face the offender. 

Bucky looked vaguely pale and very tense as he stammered his excuses. “Oh hey there, I barely recognized you. Not that you actually look like a woman, but, uh, it's a good costume. So, uh boyfriend? That's good to hear.”

“Yup.” Clint replied popping his lips, “boyfriend.” He stepped backward into Phil's side. He wasn't sure why he was so defensive, but he figured it had something to do with Phil being the best thing to happen to him. He wasn't going to let anyone cut what surely limited time he had with the incredible man. 

Before another word could be exchanged he felt a nudging at his shoulder and heard a feminine voice behind them. 

“Ok folks, let me through or no one gets drunk.” Darcy chipped as she slipped by in a skin tight cat suit complete with ears and a tai. She wasl holding a large brown paper bag of what was most likely alcohol. 

It was during the shuffle in the doorway that Clint noticed Bucky's costume for the first time, or lack thereof. He wore white slacks, a white undershirt with the letters “K Y” painted on it in blue and a blue fedora with white gloves. 

“So, why is it I'm at your party in drag and your dressed up to go out?” Clint asked suspiciously. 

Bucky turned a light shade of pink and shook his head. “This is my costume, and the last time I give Stevie free reign over our getup.”

“Or maybe just the last time you refuse to give input and help,” said a masculine voice far larger than the small body it came from. 

It was at that moment that Steve came in to sight wearing metallic gold polyester hot pants and a tight matching gold top with a Trojan helmet painted on it in black. 

“Brilliant Steve, lube and a condom. Very clever. ” Phil commented from where he now had his arm wrapped around Clint's waist. 

“Good to see you guys. Thanks Phil, but I don't think anything beats men in skirts” Steve said as he shoved a soda can in each of their hands. 

“I'm in a kilt, Clint is in a skirt,” Phil corrected in a playfully haughty fashion. 

After their slightly awkward greeting Clint and Phil joined the others as the party kicked into full swing. Darcy made a smoking green witches brew with Midori liqueur. The pizza came with more than enough to feed everyone. And most every one was in the Halloween spirit in costume. 

Jane Foster and her fiance came as medieval warriors, Melinda May came in a skirt suit saying she was ‘not a tattoo artist.’ Clint and Phil were sure they met their match in the way of Tony Stark who came as a censored nude person by wearing nothing but a sandwich board with beige pixels. The school principal Bruce Banner even came as Mr Hyde. As well as several of Bucky's friends that did not work at the shop. 

As the evening wore on light mingling evolved to deep conversation lubricated by booze. Later someone produced a small device that would allow the group to play games of the large TV using their phones as controllers. It was a game called cards against humanity. In this game one person drew a question card from the deck while the others attempted to match an answer card to it from their hand. This usually resulted in very nonsensical if not downright offensive sentences. 

The fun thing about the game is that as the person with the question card reads the answers to declare the winner, the rest of the players can read them on the TV screen. 

“Okay, Single N’ bitchin’, who the hell is that? Your turn.” Bucky read off the screen name while draped over the armrest of the armchair Steve sat in.

“Yo!” Darcy called out with a wave of her hand before proceeding to read her question card. “At night I like to fall asleep listening to blank.”

After short silence of people drawing their preferred answer cards Darcy read the winner's card aloud. “At night I like to fall asleep listening to… the inaudible screams of carrots. Congratulations White N’ Nerdy, wow Bruce. But Captain Hook came in second with Oprah Winfrey crying into her ice cream, so an honorable mention goes to Bucky. Robin Hood is next.”

Clint snuggled into Phil's side where they were crammed on the sofa wait Tony And Natasha. He clicked the prompts on his phone to take him to his card then read his question aloud “I like blank in my coffee in the mornings.”

As Phil focused on choosing his card, his free hand caressed Clint fabric draped knee. Clint leaned in to the touch as far as he could without crawling into the other man's lap. He had never been with someone who was openly affectionate before and he was hell bent on savoring every moment. Clint watched his screen for the quote that all answers are were submitted then read the two finalists aloud. 

“Okay it's down to either, what the fuck? Okay. The white side of Barack Obama or … are you kidding me? Apparently I like steaming hot buckets of old man come in my coffee in the mornings. Congrats… Who’s Charlotte?”

“Right here.” Natasha said with a sly grin 

Phil leaned over to whisper in his ear as the next person started their turn. “I thought that was supposed to be our secret.”

It was when Bucky took his turn that the night became very interesting. 

On Bucky’s turn he drew the question card “I am madly in love with blank.” and while the favorites of the answers consisted of “the white side of Barack Obama” once again, “the white meat of babies” and “banana flavored puppies.” the one that made the whole room still to silence was a write in card. A write in allowed the player to put whatever they wanted in response to the question. And the player 007 wrote in “my fierce pocket sized room mate.”

*****

Once they all arrived safe back at Phil's Brownstone water and aspirin were distributed and they retired to bed. Originally Clint had no plans of physical activity as it had been a long night but as he lay dressed in Phil's sweats in wrapped tightly in the older man's embrace his thoughts began to wander to the night's activities. The party had been more fun than he expected and they did win the contest, apparently Nat was right men in drag did it every time. And oh, Phil in that kilt. He could feel himself thickening at the mere thought of his boyfriend’s bare, lightly hair covered legs. His very protective boyfriend from the start of the night Phil looked ready to tackle Bucky over the grope then with the write in card. After the tensions had cooled and the party began to dissolve due to a lack of hosts Clint had asked him why he had done it. To which his only reply was, "I've been watching Barnes deny himself happiness for years. Thinking he wasn't good enough even though Steve was clearly over the moon about him. It just didn't seem right to let it go on.” 

When Phil's write in card had been revealed Bucky turned into a mess. His face turned a bright shade of pink and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. 

“Steve, it's not true.” Bucky stammered. 

“I know.” Steve replied tightly. 

Bucky continued to deny it and Steve continued to assure him he understood until he couldn't take any more. 

Finally Steve blurred out, “I know you don't and why would you?” Steve froze a moment, face white as a sheet, before darting into his room, slamming the door behind him. 

Bucky sat there staring at the shut door with a dumbfounded expression across his face. “What just…”

From the moment the card was revealed a deathly hush fell across the room only to be broken by Darcy at that moment. “Go get him you asshole!”

After Bucky followed his best friend not a sound was heard from the pair till a very loud scandalous moan an hour later. Since everyone was more than happy to see the pair finally get their act together they were more than willing to clear the apartment. 

Phil was proving himself once again to be an incredible boyfriend. The entire evening Phil somehow managed to converse and mingle with out making Clint feel neglected for a moment. Even when Clint got so wrapped up in talking to Dr. Banner that he forgot Phil existed, he never minded, just waited till he was done and got him refills in the meantime. 

It never ceased to amaze Clint how his body responded to mere thoughts of the other man. Clint’s wiggling and squirming to adjust himself was answered by his lover’s hard length gently thrusting against his ass cheeks, and lips on his neck. 

“What has you still up?” Phil asked in a husky voice. 

Oh shit, he never took his hearing aides out. That was okay though, Clint loved being able to hear those raspy grunts and moans. 

“You, in a kilt.” Clint informed his lover matter of factly, as he turned in his grasp and latched their lips together for a heated kiss.

Any time a holiday came around even Halloween, it usually meant more work for teachers. Nat, Steve, and Clint had spent all their free time planning a party for the children. It had been a total hit, especially the history teacher dressing as a USO dancer from world War two. Their gym teacher as the spider from Charlotte’s Web. But that meant Clint’s personal life had been briefly neglected. He tried his best to keep Phil squeezed in, but that resulted in Clint forgetting to design a costume. Clint was only saved by the prop box he kept in his classroom for performances. He was just glad it was all over. 

When he felt his lover’s hands on his fully erect cock, he lost it. He needed him inside him that second. There were no gentle touches and sweet loving kisses. Only ferocity, driven by need. Clint didn't even bother trying to suck his boyfriend’s cock to prove his worth. He hastily prepared himself and begged to be fucked till he cried. Phil was also a slave to his own need and readily complied. 

 

The next morning was spent with Natasha, Phil, and Clint lazily dividing the men's winnings while munching donuts and sipping hot coffee as Skye slept in. Alice played with the rats which mostly entailed plucking them off bottles of liquor as fast as they climbed on. 

Clint insisted on keeping all the snacks in the basket because he didn't drink which left him with a hoard of beer nuts, pork rinds, chocolates and various cookies. Despite requesting half of the alcohol, Nat only commandeered the bottle of vodka and lemon vodka, leaving the whiskey, wine, and beer for Phil. If there was a heated argument over the bottle of peach schnapps no one present would ever ever breathe a word of it. 

Shortly after, Natasha whisked Clint away for her Saturday morning run through Franklin Park. 

After the run they stopped for pizza empanada as Clint's reward for coming along. Clint learned a long time ago if he complained before a run he always was treated to a reward after. He would go with her regardless, but she didn't need to know that. Though she probably did and just humored him. 

When Clint got home, he noticed Phil had called. Deciding his return call could wait, he showered and baked brownies he would surprise Phil and his girls with that night. He finally put his hearing aides back in and called Phil. When he picked his phone up from his bed he notice Phil had called two more times. 

Clint hit the speed dial, put it on speaker phone then sat at the old kitchen table from Ikea to lick the batter bowl. 

“Hey hon, you called.” Clint said casually as he ran his pointer finger along the side of bowel to gayer the batter. 

“Clint, oh thank God. You're alright.” Phil gasped on the other side of the line. 

“Uh yeah, why wouldn't I be? I told you I was running with Nat, then I just showered, oh I baked something… possibly for you.” Clint said in tease before licking a line of batter of his finger. 

“Clint, I'm so sorry.” Phil mournfully. 

Clint stopped mid lick, Phil sounded like he was about to cry. He felt like he was missing something.

“What? What are you talking about. You didn't do anything.”

He heard Phil take a slow deep breath before speaking

“Oh sweetheart. Yes I did… I… this morning, when I washed the sheets. Clint… there was blood. Darling, I'm so sorry.”

Oh. Clint noticed he’d been more sore than usual but it was nothing he couldn't take. He just attributed it to last night's bout of vigorous fucking, which had felt incredible. Even if it did hurt just a bit 

“Awe honey, don't worry about it. I'm fine I didn't even feel it. I'm sorry I freaked you out.”

“Don't worry about it!? Clint are you crazy!? I hurt you.”

“Uh no I'm not, and no you didn't. I told you I'm fine. Look these things happen all the time. So just relax. Ill heal up good as new in a few days, till then it looks like just blow jobs for you, mister.” Clint said lightly with the batter bowe long forgotten but still clutched in his hand. 

“Oh Clint… okay… just, uh… let me know if you need anything, alright? Anything at all. I mean it.”

 

Phil's responding voice was small, calm, and quiet and… sad. Though Clint didn't know why. Clint agreed in hopes of making Phil feel better but he wasn't sure it worked. 

“Sure, I promise.”

“Okay, good. I have to go. I agreed to a last minute appointment. It's going to run late… very late. The guy apparently has a rare condition where he can't feel pain. So I'm doing his chest piece in one go. I… I'll see you Monday.”

“Oh. Okay. Bye.”

“Bye darling.”

Clint sighed in defeat as he hung up the phone. He spent long moments staring at his cooled pan of homemade brownies accusingly. 

In an unseen act of rebellion and self pity he reached his hand into middle of the pan and pulled out a fist full, which he promptly shoved into his mouth. As he let the earthy sweetness coat his taste buds he considered the conversation. But he just couldn't understand what had Phil so bent out of shape. 

After all what was the big deal?


	16. Something precious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all made sense now, that was the last piece of the puzzle. It explained everything, from his distrust of people, his need to pleasure Phil and lack of interest in his own needs. Possibly even the paycheck debacle. Clint, his Clint, his love had been…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning : Heads up this chapter contains mentions of past emotional abuse between original characters. If this will upset you skip the txt between the hash tag marks. This ###### will start and stop the scene.

By Ch 14

Something precious

 

Monday afternoon at work Phil sat in the chair made by Satan himself in Fury's office between appointments. He had been taking his sweet time eating his Pho and spring rolls and nursing his Vietnamese coffee. The fact that Fury sprung for a lunch that couldn't be accused of containing a pet animal or possibly an endangered species meant his old friend knew something was seriously wrong. And it was. Phil was still haunted by what had happened Friday night, or more specifically the conversation that had transpired the following morning. 

 

Friday night had been hot and wild. He could still remember Clint begging and pleading for Phil to take him hard and fast. He kept saying he was ready, all while trying to climbing on top. Of course, Phil wouldn't let him. No, he decided if he was going to fuck his boy till he cried - just like he was wanting - he would need to be on top of him. And Clint did cry. At the time what Phil thought were beautiful tears of pleasure might have actually been tears of pain. Phil's stomach churned at the thought. As it turned out, he couldn't even bring himself to wash the sheets, he just threw them out. 

 

Despite Clint’s assurances that he was fine, Phil still harbored guilt over that night. 

 

Clint prepared himself. Clint  always  prepared himself. Phil never pushed the issue much because he didn't see the need. Some people just prefered it that way for their own comfort. So when Clint said he was stretched and ready, Phil believed him. But he shouldn't have. He should of checked. He was the top. It was his responsibility to see to his partner’s comfort and safety and he failed. 

 

What upset him the most wasn't actually that he hurt Clint, but what Clint had said on the phone. “These things happen all the time.” 

 

Phil did actually throw up after that conversation. It all made sense now, that was  the last piece of the puzzle. It explained everything, from his distrust of people, his need to pleasure Phil and lack of interest in his own needs. Possibly even the paycheck debacle. Clint, his Clint, his love had been… 

 

“Alright Cheese, cut to the chase.” 

 

Fury's voice jarred Phil to the present like a bucket of cold water. 

 

“What?”

 

“Look, we both know how this works. And if I have to spend another day trying to woo out of you whatever has you looking like you took Taylor Swift's last breakup too personally, I will not be happy.”

 

Phil leaned back in the chair, not even bothering to care about the pieces of duct tape sticking to his rumpled suit. He took a deep breath and looked his friend in the eye. “I think Clint was abused.”

 

There, he said it. Now he wanted to throw up again. Maybe Fury was on to something by ordering soup. 

 

“Yeah, I know you said his old man would kick the shit outta him.”

 

“No, I mean I think he was in a long term abusive relationship, possibly while he was in college since he doesn't seem to like to talk about those years.”

 

“He seems a bit mouthy for someone who got pounded on don't you think. you know what I mean, most of the time abuse victims are quiet, don't want to draw undue attention to themselves.” 

 

Phil shook his head, “No, I don't think he was ever hit. Though I have some… other speculations.”

  
  


“So emotional abuse, like Sophie?” Fury asked cautiously. 

 

Phil's stomach clenched at the memories. “Yes, like Sophie.” 

 

######

 

Phil had been in the Rangers and Sophie was fresh out of college when she started dating Charlie. They had been dating for three months when she brought him home to meet the family at Thanksgiving. From the moment Phil met the man, he did not like him. He was arrogant, insecure, and was far too charming for his own good. 

 

When he went to Sophie with his concerns, she lashed back claiming he wasn't giving Charlie a chance, that he was jealous. That was the first red flag. That was nothing like the sweet loving Sophie he knew. 

 

He decided to play nice just to stay close. It was a good call because every month Sophie became less like the cheerful and bright young woman he’d always known. She began canceling on friends and family saying she had too much to do, or worse, Charlie needed her. She began isolating herself completely not long after. Phil found it hard to even get five minutes over coffee with her when he was actually around and not off in a foreign country. Her  opinions on politics and even food were changing. Then she skipped the family Christmas, claiming Charlie didn't believe in Christmas so she wouldn't be coming. That was the last straw. 

 

Phil had begun to make a serious effort to convince Sophie to leave Charlie but every attempt fell on deaf ears. 

 

In the following years, Sophie had quit her job and lost almost all her friends. Even lost contact with their parents, which was highly unusual because she was most certainly the favorite child. And just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. 

 

Two years later while Phil was on leave stateside, he dropped by his dear sister’s place to see how she was. He made a point to see her in person every chance he got to check for bruises or evidence she was hiding them - not that he ever told her that - but there were none. 

 

The moment he stepped inside her apartment, she immediately apologized for it being such a wreck. Only it wasn't.  It was  pristine.  She was a hotel maid for years, she knew how to clean, like actually clean, not just keep her place uncluttered. That. Was. It. He had had enough of her being brainwashed by Charlie's lies. He told her she was leaving, hoisted her up in his arms and headed for the door. He was only stopped by a sharp slap to the face and a surprisingly feeble claim that she was in love with Charlie and would never leave so he should. So he did, but not before making it very clear that no matter what, whether she liked it or not, he would always be there for her. 

 

After that, he didn't hear from her for over year despite his several attempts at contact. That is until he got an email one day from an unknown address that contained only four little words that spoke volumes. “Did you mean it?” he had no doubt in his mind who the message was from and what it meant. His only response was four words of his own. “Yes. Anything. Anywhere. Anytime.” He heard nothing else from the unknown email address and no other contact from Sophie until months later. 

 

He was stationed in Germany when he was woken up in the middle of the night by a call from Sophie. When he answered, he heard nothing for several minutes till a weak and tired “Help me, I have nothing left. I can't go back there.” 

 

While he had her on the phone he wired her several hundred dollars, and bought her a plane ticket to California where she was to stay with his dear friend he had met in the army, Peggy Carter. He sent Peggy an email giving her a heads up his sister would be arriving in a matter of hours, knowing full well she'd be more than happy to help. 

 

While he was making arrangements to get his sister to safety (there was no telling if Charlie would come for her and what he would do) he found out she was sitting in a coffee shop drinking water with nothing but the clothes on her back and her purse. Charlie had seen to it she was fully reliant on him. Phil knew what Sophie was doing was probably the most difficult thing she had ever done but also the bravest. 

 

That night was the moment he decided to leave the army so he could be there for Sophie during her recovery. It took several years for Sophie to find herself again but when she did, she was the best version Phil had ever known. 

 

As part of her healing process, she told Phil that despite everyone's attempts to convince her to leave Charlie, what actually did it was something Charlie said. He had spent months trying to convince her to have an open relationship, by open he actually meant that he would be allowed to sleep with other women but she should remain faithful. On the day she left, he had told her it was the best thing for him, so if she loved him she would agree to it. She said in that moment everything clicked into place, like finally solving a Rubix cube. Very slowly through passive aggression, well placed insults and down right lies followed by praise and gifts he had slowly molded her into someone he could control, with no thoughts or opinions of her own. A zombie. she never saw it coming till he had already stripped her of everything that made her  Sophie. 

 

She’d told Charlie, “You're right, I don't really love you,” grabbed her purse and never looked back. She never got any belongings back but said it was a small price to pay for freedom. 

 

Charlie never once laid a hand on her, but he left emotional bruises and scars that took years to heal. 

 

######

 

Phil knew what happened to Sophie was an extreme situation. But that didn't mean someone couldn't be brainwashed or conditioned in a lesser situation. Those could often be worse because it was harder for people to tell what was going on. But they did no less damage. To this day, Clint might not even realize he was abused 

 

Phil knew it was technically only speculation but it fit so well. He wouldn't be surprised if some asshole had Clint completely convinced being hurt by sex  was normal - that being betrayed by someone was normal. He had probably been controlled by money which he would be in serious need of during college. Every time their college years were brought up Clint would sidestep the topic. The abusive lover also probably had him convinced that love and kindness were to be earned. This would explain why.

 

Not to mention children of abuse were more prone to experience it in adulthood. Clint was probably too busy watching out for flying fists to be on the lookout for damaging words. 

 

“So, what’re you gonna do about it, Cheese?”

 

Phil's attention was immediately brought back to his friend at the sound of his voice. 

 

“I don't think talking about it will help right now, he may even be under the horrible misconception that the only real abuse is physical. Most people don't even know calling someone stupid or useless is abuse, especially if repeated. And the damage is done anyway. But I can't do nothing. I just… How could someone do that to such a precious person? I don't understand, Clint he's… amazing why would anyone want to change that. Why couldn't they see that?” By the end, Phil's voice was cracking and he had tears on his lashes. 

 

Fury was silent a moment before quietly responding. “I don't have your answers. I don't think anyone ever will. Look, why don't you pack up and go home, pick your little girl up from school for a change. In fact, I don't want to see you in my shop for… oh let's say three weeks. Things start to slow down this time of year so we’ll be okay without you. You don't need the money. But, your family does need you and you could do with some time to figure this whole thing with your boy out.”

 

Phil dropped his head in defeat. “You're right.”

 

“Damn straight I am. Now get the hell out of my shop.”

 

Phil nodded and packed up the rest of his lunch, after all there was no reason to waste good food. His hand was on the office door know when his friends voice stopped him. 

 

“I hope you realize Cheese, that conditioning works both ways. Now, I meant what I said, three weeks.”

 

With a nod, Phil stepped out of the office just in time to see a pleased and proud Darcy handing a very dumbfounded Bucky a large shoe box full of confiscated cigarette packs. 

 

Phil quickly scooped up his satchel and leather jacket and headed straight for the door without an explanation. He paused briefly to toss a quick, “You may find yourself spending less money on cigarettes now,” before stepping out the door. 

 

Once in the car, he checked the time. If he hurried he could pick Alice up without being too late. He sent a quick text to Skye letting her know as much and inviting her to take the SUV to meet them for an early dinner at Alice's favorite restaurant. He then headed straight for the school. 

 

During the drive, Phil hit more traffic than expected but that gave him more time to consider what his friend told him. 

 

Family,  his  family. They needed him. He considered just what that meant. Alice was his family, his sweet little girl, she would benefit from spending more time with him, and he with her. You really couldn't get enough of that after all, at least at this age. 

 

Then there was Skye. Since he hired her, she had quickly become part of his family as well. Some days it was almost like being a big brother again, which both bothered and soothed him. But Skye had no one else, she’d aged out of foster care, and her place in his home was priceless. Having come from a home with several other young children gave have her good credentials to get a job at a daycare with her school mate Darcy. 

 

Then… then, there was Clint. Phil didn't hesitate a moment to count him as family. He had become fast friends with Skye and Alice thought he hung the moon. Clint thought she was the greatest kid ever made, tantrums and all. A single parent couldn't ask for a better match. Of course, Clint just acted like he was their family. Last week on the one night they had together, instead of ditching the girls the first chance they got, Clint volunteered to read Alice a story. It was quite the event. Phil read the story out loud while turning the pages as Clint signed. 

 

Phil always thought himself a good book reader. Alice had loved the way he used voices. He had spent months mourning the loss of that special time together. But there, Clint was giving it back to them. His gestures were exaggerated as were his expressions. Clint succeeded in telling the story with his body the same way Phil had used his voice. At the rate he and Alice were going, it wouldn't be long before he could do that too. It was a priceless gift Clint had given them.

 

Phil chewed over the rest of what Fury had said. He was right, Clint needed him right now. Fury has even give him the way to do it. Someone had spent months if not years conditioning Clint to question his worth and lower his expectations. While it could take as long if not longer, with enough kind gestures and praise, perhaps Phil could reverse it. Or, at least stop Clint from thinking pain and mistreatment was normal. The sooner he started the better. In fact he could start right now. 

 

When Phil pulled up to the school, he was far later than he anticipated. All the other children and parents were gone, which left the parking lot completely empty. When Phil went inside the school he was directed to Clint's classroom. Apparently Skye knew there was no way Phil would make it on time and had called ahead to Clint to give him the heads up. Clint had been keeping an eye on her for him for the last twenty minutes. When Phil reached his destination, he found Clint beating on a snare drum for Alice then allowing her to mimic his rhythm. They both appeared to be having a blast. Phil decide to give them another moment before interrupting. 

 

“Clint, I'm so sorry I'm late. I thought I'd it make in time.” Phil apologized as he leaned against the wall beside Clint in a way that made his loosened collar gape open. 

 

Clint have him a small smile while he stilled Alice's flying hands. “It's alright. Alice helped me set up for tomorrow and  now I'm teaching her life skills,” he said with a little smirk as he gestured to the drum stick she held. 

 

“So I see. As long as she's not shaving her head when she turns seven and asking for a tattoo on her eighth birthday.”

 

Clint's smirk widene,  “No, we talked she's gonna do a mohawk instead.”

 

Phil rolled his eyes, “Oh well, in that case it's perfectly fine.”

 

But suddenly Clint's face dropped and all joking stopped. “Phil, is everything alright? Skye said it was pretty important that you picked up Alice. That's why I didn't mind staying.”

 

Phil stepped in close and slid a comforting hand across Clint's shoulder blades. “Yes darling, everything is fine. I started my vacation time this afternoon and Alice's favorite restaurant is a brunch and lunch place so they close at 5. We haven't been since school started, I was hoping to hurry and take her for an early dinner.”

 

Clint leaned slightly into Phil's warm touch. “That's great. I hope you have a good time.” Clint's voice sounded a little tight despite the smile on his face. 

 

“Clint, I was hoping you would join us.” Phil said warmly. 

 

Clint looked genuinely shocked, “What? You're not… mad? Cause… Saturday.”

 

It broke Phil's heart that Clint thought the slightest disagreement would drive a wedge between them. 

 

“No, of course not. Worried, yes. Clint, I will always worry about you. But, not mad.”

 

Clint ducked his head, as a blush crept across his cheeks. He turned his back to Alice before speaking, “Oh, ok. Wel,l I don't want to intrude and… you know you don't have to do this...I mean, I'm fine… I mean, I know you feel…”

 

“Clint.” Phil cut him off. “I’m not asking because I feel like I should. I'm asking because we don't see you as much we'd like and would genuinely love to have your company for dinner.”

 

To drive his point home, he got Alice’s attention from where she was whacking away at the rubber drum practice pad. He took the Queens Comfort menu out of his suit jacket pocket and pointed to her, himself, and Clint and then to the menu. Her response was to leap from out behind the drum set and throw her arms around Clint's waist while she nodded vigorously. 

 

Clint chuckled and returned the hug. “Okay, I might get your point.”

 

“Good, I really think you'll love this place. It's comfort food on steroids. They bread their chicken tenders in Captain Crunch cereal, put bacon and Lucky Charms on their donuts and Sriracha on deep fried balls of Mac and cheese. Oh, and  they call you to your table by your favorite Dance or Pop Song.” Phil got more excited with every detailed he mentioned. 

 

“And, to think I was planning my proposal to the pizza empanada. If that food is half as good as it sounds there's gonna be trouble in paradise.” Clint joked as he shot a text to Nat to take his bike home and feed Lucky. 

 

“Yes, well as long as it doesn't involve the Short Rib Mac N’ Cheese and fried green tomatoes I'll keep your secret. We had our civil ceremony over the summer and are perfectly happy together.” Phil informed Clint as he escorted his boyfriend and little girl out of the school. 

 

Dinner went off without a hitch despite Clint's affair with the custard filled French toast and deep fried chicken and waffle balls. Clint seemed relaxed and happy, and that was all Phil ever wanted for him. 

  
Phil knew he had a long road ahead to bring back the pieces of Clint that some heartless insecure bastard had stolen from him. But he  would   find a way. He couldn't let another person down. Certainly not Clint. 


	17. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment later Clint raised raised his head and rested his forehead against Phil's “I meant what I said though, if there's anything you want to try…”
> 
> “Oh sweetheart you have nothing to prove to me but… but there was something new I wanted to try tonight. But only if you want to.”
> 
> Clint's voice seemed to be immediately filled with both relief and excitement. “yes, absolutely, anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys this chapter was supposed to be smut smut more smut and nothing but smut. But some readers expressed interest in what Phil did with his vacation and so more plot was born and this chapter happened. So next chapter is the supper smut chapter then the big reveal of Clint's past. A big thank you to my beta lillyjk. Now read enjoy and I look forward to your feed back it helps me write.

Hands Ch 15

 

It had almost been two weeks since Phil had made it his mission to reverse the effects of Clint's years of abuse. Every day he told Clint in both actions and words how handsome he was, how smart Phil thought he was and how downright important and special to Phil he had become. 

 

He hadn't made much headway yet, Clint was still completely confused and caught off guard by each gesture, but Phil expected that. You didn't reverse the effects of longterm abuse overnight. It was okay because Phil was in it for the long haul. Only… 

 

Only there were some issues that had to be addressed and solved sooner rather than later if they could make it as a couple. 

 

Ever since that Monday night after dinner Clint had been trying to initiate sex. He tried for everything, even just offering Phil a blow job. While Phil would have loved nothing more than to have Clint's lips wrapped around his dick, and knew he would be healed by now, he in good conscience just couldn't yet. But he also knew denying Clint was sending Clint mixed signals. 

 

This all started because Clint couldn't communicate his pain and discomfort. Phil knew it wasn't his fault, he had been conditioned that way. Until that issue was addressed, Phil couldn't let anything happen yet. Luckily for them Friday morning Phil devised a plan for that night. 

 

Skye and Alice had plans for that night. The mother of one of Alice's friends, who had also become friends with Skye, had invited both the girls over for the night. Which, if Phil was honest with himself, was the only reason he had agreed to it. 

 

That meant he and Clint would have the whole house to themselves. Phil decided he would take full advantage of it. 

 

Phil turned the page of his sketch book after checking the clock on the wall, he still had an hour before he had to leave to pick up Clint and Alice. 

 

In his time off, the four of them quickly fell into a new routine that optimised Phil's role in their lives. Phil was able to alleviate Skye of many of her regular duties giving her some much deserved time off. He would wake up, make a full hot breakfast for his family, take Alice to school and come home to spend some time on his own art. He then would pick up Alice and Clint. Even though they were both still in school Phil still wanted to enjoy as much time with them as possible. 

 

After school Phil took them to the park where Alice did her homework, while Clint signed with Phil. They always made a point to sign each day and as much as possible to make Alice feel included. Most nights Phil took them home to make them a hot homemade dinner. After, Clint and Alice would take over his kitchen to bake a snack or dessert. Watching them together would melt his heart every time. They spent several nights snacking on popcorn balls, or Phil's favorite, black forest cake, while watching a movie or family show or listening to music. Though last weekend he had taken them to Coney Island. 

 

It had all been so domestic. Phil had been given the opportunity to play stay at home dad for the first time and he loved it. He loved watching Clint teach Alice to play his guitar while he cooked dinner. He loved the nights that Alice asked for both he and Clint to tuck her into bed. Many nights Clint had even stayed the night. While it was difficult to convince him to do so platonically, Phil had never slept better than when he did so holding his love. 

 

Phil fought the urge to imagine spending the rest of his life like this. It was far too soon to be thinking of a life with Clint like that. Especially considering how much recovery Clint had ahead him, that he probably wasn’t even aware of. But that was difficult because it felt so natural. 

 

Phil finished his sketch and admired it a moment before tucking it away in a drawer and grabbing his keys to set his new afternoon routine into motion. The drawing was of Clint with Alice sitting in his lap as he taught her new signs. It was already his new favorite. 

 

In the time since Clint had become a part of their lives, Alice's willingness to sign had improved dramatically. While she still had her stubborn moments, most of the time she was at least willing to attempt to communicate in a basic level using ASL. That, Phil found, to be a great success. It also seemed the easier it was for her to communicate with them, the more likely she was to do it. 

 

Phil made it in time to meet Alice and Clint in his classroom. Once home, instead of their regular routine, Phil helped Alice with her homework while Clint busied himself with baking in the kitchen. While Phil always looked forward to this part of the day, if it kept going much longer his slightly soft but still mostly flat belly would be a beer belly in no time. 

 

While Alice waited on Skye to come home from an outing with her friends, Clint set the three of them up to roll cake balls together so Alice could bring them to her friend. Even though more cake dough and candy coating ended up on the floor  and table and each other it was the most fun Phil had in a long time. 

 

With the girls gone,  Phil ordered Thai food for dinner before curling up with Clint on the couch. It was when he pulled Clint into his side that he noticed just how tense the younger man was and the very faint frown that creased his face. 

 

“Darling, what's wrong? I have pineapple curry on its way just for you. I thought you loved it.” Phil asked as he pulled Clint in tighter. 

 

Clint rested his head on Phil's chest with a large sigh. “I do. It’s my favorite. But… you don't have to keep doing this. I… I’m not made of glass.”

 

Phil sighed and gently carded his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. “Is that what you think I've been doing, treating you like glass?”

 

“Well yeah, either that or…” Clint's voice trailed off as he played with the hem of Phil's t shirt. 

 

“Or what, sweetheart?”

 

“Or I messed up. I haven't… been doing what you like. And you're just too nice to tell me and you're I dunno, letting me down easy, but… I'll fix it. I promise. Just tell me what is. I'll do it or… or I can learn.” 

 

Phil’s hand froze mid stroke, he was absolutely astounded by what he heard. Clint's voice had become hoarse and pleading. And he thought that all of Phil's kind and romantic gestures had been bad omens. Phil was horrified by that thought, he didn't realize how bad the abuse had been. He gently cupped Clint's cheek and lifted his head so Phil could look into his tear rimmed eyes. 

 

“Oh darling, no. I don't want you to go anywhere, just the opposite really, and you didn't do anything wrong do you understand me? I know I've been spoiling you a bit more lately but that because with the time off I can. Darling, you have to understand that's how I show someone they are important to me. I enjoy picking you up and cooking for you or ordering your favorite foods and going on outings. Clint, you are one of the most important people in my life and I don't want you going anywhere anytime soon.” Phil sealed his declaration with a gentle, chaste kiss to Clint's lips. 

 

“But then… then why won't you fuck me any more,” a single tear then ran down Clint's cheek. 

 

“Sweetheart, you needed time to heal. I never want that to happen again.” Phil ran his thumb over Clint's damp cheek bone before quickly adding. “Not because you're made of glass, but because you are so very important to me that I can't stand the idea of you in pain or hurt in any way. Do you understand?”

 

“Well, I've been healed for over a week now” Clint huffed stubbornly. 

 

“Good then I guess that means you can take whatever I dish out tonight.” Phil said with a small, slightly wicked smile. 

 

Phil couldn't stop the small chuckle that escaped his lips when Clint dropped his forehead to Phil's shoulder then gasped “thank God” in clear relief. 

 

A moment later Clint raised raised his head and rested his forehead against Phil's “I meant what I said though, if there's anything you want to try…”

 

“Oh sweetheart you have nothing to prove to me but… but there was something new I wanted to try tonight. But only if you want to.”

 

Clint's voice seemed to be immediately filled with both relief and excitement. “yes, absolutely, anything.”

 

“That's a very dangerous thing to offer my dear.”

 

“Not with you.”

 

While the sentiment of trust was sweet, Phil wasn't completely convinced it wasn't just due to the brain washing from abuse. 

 

Phil pulled Clint in to his lap, straddling his waist and facing him. He then dug both hands in Clint's hair and massaged his scalp with his fingertips in a soothing gesture. “Alright then how do you feel about bdsm?”

 

“Bdsm? Like Uh, spankings, bondage, whips and ‘yes master’?” Clint asked cautiously. 

 

Phil continued his ministrations in hopes of keeping Clint relaxed through their talk. “While yes those things are included in the term, they aren't exactly what I had in mind. I have no interest in whips or paddles, I can't find the enjoyment in inflicting that sort of pain even if it's asked for. On occasion I like to give a light spanking but nothing hard or brutal and not tonight. What I really like is the power exchange. I like having someone completely vulnerable and reliant on me for their pleasure. So yes bondage would go a long way to help achieve that. If that's something you think you would enjoy that is.”

 

“Uh bondage, that's yeah, that's fine.”

 

Phil narrowed his eyes. “You hesitated.”

 

“It’s fine, really.”

 

Phil stared into Clint’s bright blue eager eyes as if doing so would give him the answers he sought. “Have you done it before?”

 

“Yes” Clint replied surprisingly confident. 

 

“Did you like it?” 

 

“Well… I..” 

 

“Clint you don't have to try to please me. We're not doing it.”

 

Clint sat back on Phil's knees with a huff. “the being tied up I didn't mind. It was… just who it was. But you're not them you're  you so it’ll be better.” 

 

Phil fought down the now all too familiar rage. He had no idea just how bad things had been for Clint. He wouldn't be surprised if he’s had a safe word ignored. 

 

“How about this? We will start with me holding you down tonight, and if you enjoy it, we can work our way up to something more secure. Now all you have to do is give me your safe word. That way if there is something you're not enjoying I can stop or do something different. I won't be mad I just want to make sure you have nothing but good memories of tonight.”

 

Clint have Phil a small warm smile as a hint of pink tinted his cheeks. “yeah, okay that sounds good. But Uh… I don't have a safe word. No one ever asked me for one before.”

 

Someone would die. As soon as Phil found who had done this to this beautiful wonderful caring and just generally amazing man he would make sure that person paid, long and brutally. In the meantime though he would kiss and soothe every single one of his love’s invisible scars. 

 

Phil realised there was no point to tell Clint his past experiences in bdsm had been wrong at that moment, bringing something like that up would probably upset him. He would just have to teach by example. 

 

“Okay. Tonight we’re going to use the universal traffic light system. When I ask you for a color you will tell me green if you're enjoying yourself, yellow if you're uncertain about something we're doing. If you say yellow we will just slow down, I'll ask you what is making you uncomfortable and change it. If you say red everything stops completely. Do you understand?”

 

Clint, who listened intently the whole time, nodded his head confidently. “Yeah, I can do that.”

 

There was hope for Clint yet. That thought alone filled Phil with a deep warmth. 

 

It was at that moment dinner arrived. 

 

*****

 

Unlike any other night Clint had come over for dinner, Phil had instructed him to wait for him in his studio while he paid for dinner. 

 

Once inside Clint was caught completely off-guard. The coffee table which usually held Phil's lap top for skyping was cleared off. In its place was a vase of lavender daisies, and two deep purple pillar candles the bars read lemon - lavender. Clint took the lighter and lit the candles before dimming the lights. 

 

It was a good thing Phil hadn't come up yet, because Clint was completely speechless. He didn't really understand what was going on. Phil refused sex for two weeks then all of a sudden pulled out the super romance. Maybe he had forgotten an important date. 

 

The door opened and Phil walked in with his arms full of boxes and bags. 

 

“Ya know, I could have helped you haul this all up here.” Clint told him as he relieved him off some of his packages. 

 

“Nonsense, it's not that much.” Phil said dismissively as he began to lay out all the contents, though Clint insisted on helping. 

 

“So do you have more of a domestic side than I know about, I mean I never took you for a Yankee Candle guy before” Clint asked with a chuckle as he pulled various curry dishes and spring rolls out of the brown paper bag. 

 

“You caught me, but in my defense they were having their end of season sale when I was at the mall last week.” Phil said excitedly as he popped the cork of the sparkling beverage he had bought just for tonight. 

 

“Wine?”

 

“Sparkling Cider, I noticed how much you liked it at the Halloween party.” Phil corrected. 

 

Clint stood and looked at the spread before him. There were two champagne flutes for the Cider, the cake balls they made together earlier, and a plethora of Thai food. Not only had Phil gotten their favorites pineapple curry shrimp for Clint and roasted duck curry for himself, but there was also pad Thai, shrimp spring rolls, fish cakes and dim sum,  withtom Kah soup it was a veritable feast. Phil had even purchased two cups of Thai tea.  

 

“Phil is there a special date I forgot? I mean what is all this?” 

 

Phil stepped in front of Clint, wrapped his arms around the younger man's waist, and gently placed a kiss on his lips. “No you haven't forgotten anything. This is our date. This, is also part of the ‘anything’ you said I could have.” 

 

“I don't understand.” Clint scrunched his face in confusion. 

 

Phil kept one hand around his waist and gently stroked the younger man's cheek with the other. 

 

“I have a child that I don't spend near enough time with and that makes it difficult for us to have romantic and private adult time. But instead of being frustrated with that, you've been amazing. You enjoy spending time with her, with us, hell you were nearly late to school a few weeks ago just so you could read her a story. Clint, that… that's more than I could have ever hoped for. Not to mention she's convince you hung the moon.”

 

A light blush crept across Clint's cheeks as he leaned in to Phil's caress. “Nah, it's not that big of a deal, she's an amazing kid. I'm happy to do it. Even though she had a stubborn streak a mile wide, just guessing here but I'd bet that's a Coulson family trait.”

 

“I'm afraid it is.” Phil chuckled before continuing. “Since we have a chance to have the whole house  to ourselves I wanted to take advantage of that. And while I wasn't expecting this, you did say anything. So this is it this is my anything.” Phil said while motioning to the abundant spread on the coffee table. 

 

Clint’a only response was to give him a quizzical look. 

 

“Tonight all I want to do is take my time and savor every moment with. I want to  slowly and  sensually feed you every bite of dinner. Then I want to leisurely remove each piece of clothing and cover every inch of your skin in kisses. I want to spend  hours  memorizing every dip, dent and hair on your body. Then… then I want to ever so slowly make love to you for as long as we can stand.” By the end Phil's pupils were blown wide nearly hiding his bright blue irises. 

 

“So, uh. What happened to the bdsm?” Clint asked, surprisingly short of breath. 

 

“That's what makes it so great. You see darling, I'll be the dominant so when I tell you to just lay back and enjoy it, or even that you are not allowed to touch me, you'll have to listen to me. So long as you're enjoying yourself of course. And most importantly you can't come till I say. I don't want it to end too soon after all. Does that all sounds alright to you?”

 

Clint couldn't believe this was his life. 

 

“Are you real.” Clint asked in awe. “I tell you we can try anything,  anything,  spankings, ropes, role-playing, homemade porn, hell you could have the best blow job of your life. You could have asked for any of those things. But instead you want to… feed and pamper me and fuck me romantically while you do all the work?”

 

“Yes exactly. Is that okay with you?” Phil asked cheerfully. 

 

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” was what Clint said but inside he was filled with terror. It was nothing that Phil wanted to do that scared him. No, what he found terrifying was that nothing  this good could ever last. This wasn't a life meant for him. Clint could feel it, the end was near. So Clint decided, in that moment, that he wouldn't question this unusual generosity and attention. He would let Phil have what he wanted and would enjoy it guiltlessly. Because this would probably be his only taste of normal. Of...more.

 

“Wonderful. Just get comfortable and let me worry about everything” Phil said as he guided Clint down to the couch. 

 

Phil's beaming face and enthusiasm warmed Clint from the inside out in a way no coffee or fire ever could. He knew it would probably be the best night of his life. Now he just had to find a way to make it that way for Phil too.  

 


	18. Neon Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil was ecstatic, so far Clint had been going along with his plan with relative ease. He had considered the possibility of facing more resistance. But perhaps Clint wasn't so far gone that he still knew he wanted to be loved and respected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first off I want to say as some of ya'll have noticed by now I have turned this story in to a series. Phil will have his own sequal which I will try to release completed (no promises) and I think there will be one more story after that featuring more of the avengers.
> 
>  
> 
> The rest of this story is done! It's just waiting for beta so I will release the chapter as the amazing lillyjk finishes them. 
> 
> So please read enjoy and review as your reviews inspire me to write more.

Hands 16

Neon Green

  
  


Phil was ecstatic, so far Clint had been going along with his plan with relative ease. He had considered the possibility of facing more resistance. But perhaps Clint wasn't so far gone that he still knew he wanted to be loved and respected. 

 

Once the mood was set with soft rock ballads playing from his docked iPhone, Phil began to do the one thing he had waited months to do, worship Clint. He stopped when he noticed something off. 

Clint sat in the corner of the love seat furthest from him looking very tense and nervous. Maybe things weren't going as smoothly as Phil thought. Clint sat rigidly in his purple sweater and tight black skinny jeans, his eyes darted between the food, his hands in his lap and Phil. Phil sat beside Clint and gently gathered him in his arms. 

 

“Darling, what's wrong?”

 

“It’s nothing. I just…” Clint heaved out a large sigh as he learned into the embrace. “I don't know what I  am supposed to do.”

 

Phil smiled gently. “For starters, stop thinking about it. I mean it, for right now forget about everything except me. In fact talk to me. Tell me about… your baking. What flavor cake balls did we make and why on earth was the cinnamon out? You know how much I love cinnamon.”

 

Phil's plan appeared to be working, because Clint immediately seemed more relaxed. 

 

“Cheesecake oreo balls. They're my favorite. Oh and that cinnamon was for the sticky buns I made for tomorrow morning’s breakfast. I wanted to give you a break from always making it. They're all set to go, they just need to be baked in the morning.”

 

“Oh Clint, for the record I'm pretty sure I'm the one getting spoiled here.” 

 

“Nah. You're always making me breakfast, so I wanted to do something special for you.” Clint said bashfully

 

“I do those things because I enjoy them. But I do really appreciate this. I don't think I've ever had anyone make me homemade sticky buns before. If you keep baking like this I may not let you go home next time.” As Phil chatted lightly with Clint, he opened the take out containers one by one. He loaded a spoon with a bit of rice and a scoop of Clint's favorite pineapple curry. Before Clint could formulate a response he gently guided the spoon into his lover's mouth. 

 

Phil watched the surprise bloom across Clint's face that then turned to pleasure as he enjoyed each bite. 

 

Phil continued to talk to Clint about mundane things and subjects they needed to catch up on. They talked about Alice's progress with signing as well as future play dates for her and Lucky. Clint told Phil Nat definitely had a regular secret lover. It was a woman but that was all he knew.  Clint even told Phil about the winter program he was working on with the kids. All the while Phil gently fed Clint little bits of food. 

 

Phil started with curry and rice, then slowly fed Clint a shrimp spring roll. To his credit, he never lost his composure when clint tried to stir things up by performing fellatio (very impressively) on said spring roll. He would follow it with a bite of Pad Thai then use his finger to feed him the dim sum steamed meat filled dumplings and pieces of fish cake. Clint quickly relaxed, taking the bites from where his head rested comfortably on Phil's shoulder. 

 

Phil was having the time of his life. His beautiful boy was so relaxed and eating from his very own fingers and later he had agreed to let Phil have his way. Phil just hoped tonight Clint would learn his lesson about communication. 

 

Phil had gotten so wrapped up in feeding his lover that he forgot to feed himself that is until he found his boyfriend holding a forkful of Pad Thai to his lips with an exasperated smile playing across his lips. As Phil chewed the offered bite, he became downright giddy that Clint seemed to have warmed up to the idea of their romantic dinner. 

 

Phil didn't stop at just hand feeding his love, no he insisted on holding the glass of cider or the Thai sweetened tea. The soup proved to to be a bit of an obstacle though. 

 

“Wait a second, you're not going to feed me soup while sitting on a couch are you?” Clint asked slightly alarmed when he saw Phil opening the cup of coconut lime chicken soup. 

 

“Of course I am. Relax, I have over a year under my belt of baby feeding.” Phil told him in attempt to reassure him though he cringed internally at how it came out. 

 

“That was not as sexy as you think it sounded” Clint told him with a smirk and a chuckle. 

 

Phil could feel his cheeks heat up. It didn't matter how long they had been together, or how comfortable Phil was with Clint, with nothing more than a smile (or better yet the deep sexy rumble of laughter) he could reduce him to feeling like an awkward teenager again. Phil did manage a quick recovery. 

 

He wordlessly tugged Clint's sweater off, which surprisingly gave him more of a view than he was expecting. Clint was wearing a black undershirt so tight and with a v-neck so deep, he would have sworn it came out of Natasha's closet. In the end Phil didn't care where he got it, because it displayed Clint's well carved muscles beautifully. He didn't have long to appreciate it as it had to go too. 

 

Once Phil had Clint topless, he ignored his own interested cock and began to very carefully feed Clint the still warm soup. Well, not too carefully, as Phil found licking the stray drops off Clint chin and chest, and the younger man's beautiful gasps to be quite enjoyable. 

 

As much as Phil wanted to be a good host and double check Clint - with his tongue - for missed drops of broth he knew they still had some talking to do. At least they had all night. 

 

When they were both full, Phil tucked Clint against his shoulder on his lap. Phil thought this was the perfect time to finish their discussion about what would occur later that evening. Phil paused mid thought when Clint managed to procure one of the cake balls without dislodging himself too much then held it to his lips. 

 

Clint didn't move to put it in Phil's mouth and Phil didn't make a move to take it. Clint just very lightly dragged it along his lower lip. A moment later when Phil felt the light nudging at his mouth he opened then bit the confection in half. He closed his eyes to enjoy the tangy burst of cream cheese and earthy sweet chocolate and reveled in the white chocolate that melted on his tongue. But what he saw when he opened his eyes nearly stopped his heart. 

 

Clint's eyes were filled with both passion and amusement, and a small but delighted smile played at the corners of his mouth. Phil couldn't be happier than to see Clint truly enjoying himself. 

 

As the men lazily hand fed each other cake balls and sparkling cider, Phil decided it was the perfect time to address the final topic. 

 

*****

 

“Clint sweetheart, earlier I told you the things I like, but what about you?”

 

Oh boy, what a loaded question, Clint thought. Trick question was more like it though. Clint had never particularly enjoyed sex with anyone other than Phil. Sure sex with Brock had been pretty hot, but it still didn't compare to what he had with Phil. Everything he did with Phil was both exciting and amazing and Clint actually looked forward to it every time. Hell, if Phil would just let him give him a blow job already Clint was pretty sure it would be the closest thing to a spiritual experience he'd ever had. 

 

Clint knew what he didn't like, but that was about it. Well, there were some things he thought could be fun, with Phil at least. He supposed he could start there. He just had to be careful to not give too much away. Clint took a deep breath and snuggled closer into the crook of Phil's neck. “I dunno, I'm not really picky I guess, pretty open to trying new things actually. And I'm great at role play if that's your thing.” 

 

Clint felt Phil inhale as if preparing to speak, possibly to object to the lack of specifics. Clint decided he had to try to nip that in the bud. But what came out when he spoke was not what he had planned. “I just don't like being hurt or left alone. I want to try a spanking from you, I think you would make it good. But I don't like it when play leaves scars or bruises.”  He actually surprised himself at the honesty of what he admitted. He suddenly felt exposed, and it had nothing to do with his bare chest. 

 

Clint felt Phil's arms tighten around him in a nearly suffocating hold. He began to worry be had said the wrong thing. After all, bruises weren't necessarily a bad thing to some people. But Clint always drew the line at being slapped or hit. He'd had enough of that already. 

 

Clint felt Phil bury one hand in his hair to gently rub his scalp with his fingertips while Phil's other hand maneuvered Clint's  chin so they were eye to eye. Phil's eyes were unreadable to Clint but they weren't angry or pitying and that's all that really mattered. 

 

“Clint, if you want to try a spanking we can another night, however you like it. And we can explore and try different things that interest you together at a pace that you're comfortable with. But listen to me darling,  no one will ever hurt you like that again. You never have to worry about marks, scars and bruises anymore. I promise.”

 

Suddenly Clint's feeling of exposure evolved into a feeling of safety. As if every word Phil spoke was the gospel truth, and nothing or no one could ever hurt him again as long as Phil was around. Never in his life had Clint ever felt more safe and secure than he did in that moment, and he never wanted the feeling to end. 

 

Phil punctuated his declaration with a gentle yet passionate kiss. 

 

Apparently Phil decided dinner was over and play had begun - which was completely fine with Clint - because he didn't stop at the one kiss. Phil maneuvered them so Clint was stretched across the over stuffed loveseat, head on one arm rest and bare feet propped up on the other. Phil sat beside him on the edge and very slowly and tenderly peppered every inch of exposed skin with kisses. 

 

It took Clint several moments to relax and enjoy the moment. It wasn't that he disliked what Phil was doing. It was just foreign. He fought the urge to reach for Phil in an attempt to pleasure him, because that was what sex was about. Wasn't it?

 

In the time that Clint had spent with Phil the older man had made him question everything he knew or thought he knew about relationships, sex and “normalcy.” Clint had learned in the beginning that Phil probably had a better idea of what “normal” was, so he might as well just follow his lead.

 

That was just what Clint tried to do in that moment. Phil said he wanted this, he had made that very clear. So Clint would just have to trust him, lay back and let him work. Once Clint made the decision to just trust Phil to know what he wanted, he found it very enjoyable. 

 

Beneath every kiss Phil placed strategically across Clint's body his skin began to gently warm and his muscles replaxed. He could feel  himself thicken in response. 

 

Phil kissed and licked his way down Clint's chest and abs to his belly button and back up until he reached his lips where he languidly kissed him. He repeated this several times for nearly an hour until both their erection were straining against their jeans. Phil then escorted Clint to his bedroom where he leisurely stripped Clint down to nothing and resumed his efforts, this time going all the way down to his toes, careful to avoid Clint leaking cock. Phil would also lavish him in praise between each kiss, telling him how beautiful, wonderful and well behaved he was being. 

 

Clint reveled in every compliment. He was no stranger to hearing them these days because Phil said them so often he almost believed him. Almost. 

 

It was all wonderful but he was starting to get overwhelmed. He wanted to get to the good part already. 

 

*****

 

Out of the corner of his eye Phil could see Clint's hand moving towards his crotch, presumably to remove his jeans. Well, he would have none of that tonight. 

 

“Don't even think about.” Phil told him in a commanding tone he hadn't used in years. 

 

Clint sighed in defeat and dropped his hand. “I just want you to feel good too,” he said before he bit his lip. 

 

Phil very gently lifted Clint's hands and placed them above his head on the pillow before speaking in an equally gentle tone. “I do feel good. I promise I'm enjoying myself very much. Now, don't move your hands from that spot unless I say. If you do there will be consequences. Do you understand.”

 

Clint nodded. “Yes, but… what are the consequences?”

 

Phil had to think about that a moment but in the end decided on a very effective yet gentle punishment. “I will not touch or talk to you for five minutes”

 

“What?! You're just gonna leave?”

 

“No, you said you don't like to be left alone. I'll stay but will ignore you, and it will increase by five minutes every time you do it. What's your color?”

 

Clint frowned slightly.  “Green. A very frustrated green.”

 

Phil chuckled lightly. “Good,  then I'm doing my job. And it's going to get worse before it gets better. You are not allowed to come until I give you permission. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You're  such a good boy, darling. I think you deserve a reward.” Phil said in a suddenly husky voice as he trailed his fingers down Clint's body and lightly drew invisible patterns around his weeping cock befor ghosting his fingers over it to collect a drop of pre come. He brought the finger to his mouth and very slowly sucked it clean. 

 

“Mmm, delicious. But I knew you would be my dearest.”

 

Clint let out a very filthy moan and began to squirm. Phil thought it was a beautiful sight. 

 

Phil licked the palm of his hand and very slowly began to stroke Clint’s aching member. Clint groaned low in his throat and his hips began to thrust into Phil's hand of their own accord. 

 

Phil took his time just enjoying the feel of Clint's silky soft skin over steel gliding through his hand. He savored every groan, whimper, and pant that escaped Clint's swollen lips. 

 

While he tortured Clint in the best ways, possible he kept an eye on Clint's hands. They twitched and fisted often but never moved from their spot. Clint really was doing a great job. Phil just hoped he could last long enough to learn to communicate his needs. 

 

“You're so beautiful like this. You're doing a great job. Would you like another reward?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” Clint gasped out between moans. 

 

Phil didn't know where he got the idea to call him sir but he loved it and hoped that they could make it a regular thing in the future. It sounded so beautiful in Clint's raspy voice. 

 

“Good boy. And I like that you called me sir. I think you're required to call me that from now on until our play is over.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“You're being so good for me.”

 

Phil was excited to give this particular reward. Clint had made it very clear his belief in the use of protection and Phil would respect that. But, that didn't mean it had to apply to him. After all Clint also made it clear he was tested regularly. 

 

Phil lowered his head and engulf Clint's leaking cock in his mouth. 

 

“Sir, what are you… Oh God.” Clint groaned. 

 

Phil moaned around Clint's cock. The combination of Clint calling him ‘Sir’ and the taste that crept into his mouth was a heady erotic cocktail. Clint tasted slightly salty and down right bitter. It was really almost awful and Phil loved it. 

 

Phil took his sweet time bobbing his head and licking various spots with his tongue, just as he had in his earlier endeavor. It only took a few moments before he felt Clint's hands gripping his shoulders. Well damn, he had really been enjoying himself. Oh well, rules were rules. Maybe this would help things last longer be was getting pretty worked up himself. 

 

Phil immediately removed his head, got off the bed and sat in the padded wooden antique chair in the corner of his room. 

 

“What, no! Don't stop! Don't stop!”

 

“Rules are rules Clint, and you broke them. For the next five minutes I will not touch or speak to you and you may not touch yourself either. Starting… now.” Phil said as he set the timer on his phone. 

 

Clint sighed in defeat but his hips still rocked into the air in hopes of seeking friction. The seconds ticked by slowly and Phil watched as Clint squirmed, sighed and huffed. He was slightly surprised the sight kept him from deflating.  What shouldn't have surprised him was what happened next. Clint flopped over onto his stomach and began to thrust his dick against the sheet covered mattress. 

 

That little brat was too smart for his own good. He could be smart too though.

 

“Oh well, it looks like Clint doesn't me after all. Guess I won't come back in one minute and forty five seconds.” Phil said to himself out loud. 

 

It seemed to have the desired effect because Clint immediately stilled his movements and rolled back over with a huff. 

 

When the timer went off, Clint let out a large sigh of relief and Phil nearly ran back to the bed. It was as tortuous for him as it was for Clint. 

 

“Have you learned your lesson, Clint?” Phil asked as he moved the younger man's hands back into position. 

 

“Yes, Sir. Don't move my hands unless you say.”

 

“You're  such a good boy for me.” Phil said then promptly resumed the lazy blowjob he had been lavishing on Clint earlier.

 

While he worked, Phil spared a glance up to revel in the look of ecstasy he was sure was on Clint's face. Which it was, but Clint was also biting his lip with with a concerning amount of force. He briefly wondered if he was pushing too hard but then decided if he let up his plan would fail. He had to push till Clint had no choice but to communicate and only then would be be allowed to come. 

 

“Clint, you may move your hands to get the lube and condoms. But once you have retrieved them you must put your hands back. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

Once the necessary supplies were acquired and Clint was back in position Phil slathered his fingers in lube and began preparing his lover as slowly and methodically as he did everything else. 

 

When Phil had the first two fingers in, he glanced up from Clint's cock once more as the younger man became unusually quiet. Clint had his bicep clamped between his teeth. Phil could see the deep teeth marks on the younger man's bottom lip and was sure his arm would be sporting a matching set. He hated that he was making Clint hurt himself, but the boy  had to learn and Phil was confident he would. 

 

When Phil had four fingers buried to the last knuckles in Clint's tight hole he decided to check in before going further. “Darling, what's your color.”

 

“Green.” Clint rasped out with his teeth still clamped around his arm. 

 

“Good boy. Are you ready for more? And don't talk with your mouth full.”

 

Clint tore his mouth off his arm and gasped out a very needy, “Yes, Sir. Oh God, yes please. More.” before resuming his teeth’s grip on his arm 

 

“Alright. You sound so pretty when you beg like that.”

 

Phil got of the bed only a moment to divest himself of his own clothes. He then rolled on the condom and slathered his own achingly hard dick in copious amounts of lube. There was no way he would risk hurting Clint like that again. 

 

Phil began to very gently ease himself into Clint's tight entrance. It was bliss. He had been inside Clint plenty of times so far but never had he been in charge and allowed to take his time. Never had they made love. Which made it all the sweeter. 

 

Phil reveled in the fit of a long series of filthy salacious moans that spilled from Clint's lips. It was music to his ears. He stayed still a moment to let Clint adjust. 

 

“Color?”

 

“Oh my God. Green. Green. Fuck me already.”

 

Phil supported his weight on his right elbow and held down Clint's wrist with his left hand. 

 

“What's your color now?”

 

“Neon fucking green.” 

 

Phil began to slide in and out of Clint at the slowest place he could while still moving. For what seemed like hours Phil kept this pace as he enjoyed the groans and frustrated whimpers from his lover. Their bodies were covered in sweat but neither cared. Phil was getting close but he wouldn't let himself come either. Not till Clint learned his lesson. The only thing Phil wasn't enjoying was how hard Clint was biting himself.  He really hoped Clint learned soon. Preferably before he drew blood. Maybe he needed another push. 

 

“Remember, don't come.” Phil panted out. 

 

“Yeah, I knoooow.”

 

Phil had reached between them and started stroking Clint weeping erection.

 

Clint began panting, squirming and moaning with a vengeance. It was a magnificent sight and made it very difficult for Phil to control himself. But he had to, for Clint. Phil kept this up till their were tears in Clint's eyes,  gorgeous tears of restraint. But what happened next caught him completely off guard. 

 

“Yellow! Don't you dare stop” Clint rushed to say between moans. 

 

“Darling, what is it.”

 

“I really like this but if you don't let me come  now  I will hurt myself. Please just let me come.”

 

Phil couldn't believe his ears. Clint did it! His boy had learned his lesson! He finally learned to communicate his needs and ask for what he wanted. So Phil would make sure he got it. 

 

Phil suddenly switched to a punishing pace thrusting in and out of him and stroked him at a place to match. 

“Yes,  sweetheart anything you need. Come now. Come for me.”

 

That was all Clint needed and he came with a shout. Phil came when he felt the clenching tightness around his cock and saw his hand being covered in the warm white substance. “I love you” spilled from his lips in a final gasp. 

 

Phil held Clint until their breathing had returned to normal but that was when he noticed how tense his lover looked. He was worried he had pushed too hard after all. 

 

“Darling, what's wrong?”

 

“What you said… Phil I…”

 

“Oh darling it's alright, you don't have to say it back. There's no pressure. Just whenever you're ready.” But apparently that didn't help because Clint was near to tears and these weren't the good kind. 

 

“No. If you knew me you wouldn't love me.”

 

“Oh darling, I do know you. I know you have a big heart, I know teaching is your passion, I know you're strong and independent and I know you're smart. I know all need to know about you and I love every one of those things and so much more.”

 

“Phil I… I'm really tired”

 

“Get some sleep, my love. I'll clean us up real quick and we'll take care of the rest in the morning.” They did just that. 

 

*****

  
The next morning was spent in pleasant silence while Clint brought Phil breakfast in bed after their shower but shortly after Clint took off to join Nat for a run. Phil hoped the sinking feeling in his gut that started. last night was just indigestion but he doubted it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come play with me on tumblr! ThePurpleTie979


	19. His Hands Said I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Our tattoos, they don't mean I love you. to us they mean something far more important. I was nineteen when it happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge Thank-you to my beta Lillyjk who is checking these chapters llikelike a champ!

Ch 17

His Hands Said I Love You

 

When Clint returned to his apartment from archery practice, the man haunting his every waking thought stood at his door waiting for him. Phil looked both more beautiful than ever, and more haggard at the same time. He stood there leaning one shoulder against the door frame with a small smile on his lips. He was wearing black hipster glasses (on any other occasion they would be filling his head with salacious thoughts) that Clint had never seen before and a Star Wars t-shirt (Clint secretly loved those dorky shirts) and jeans. But his usual five o'clock shadow was at least a full day, if not two, of growth, and the t-shirt looked like it had been slept in. To anyone else he looked fine, but Clint knew something was wrong. Something was keeping him up at night. Clint would bet his bow it was him. 

 

“Hi, Sweetheart. Good work out?" Phil said enunciating each word as he signed as he spoke. Clint wasn't sure how but he seemed to know his hearing aides were out.

 

“Uh, yeah. Uh… sorry I wasn't really expecting you." Clint said awkwardly, keeping his eyes anywhere but on the man in front of him. Until he saw his hands moving again, that is. 

 

“I know. I just… I missed you. If it's a bad time I can go.” 

 

“No. It's… I've missed you too. I’m sorry with school wrapping up for break I've just been busy.” Clint said and signed back. 

 

Clint knew it was a bullshit excuse. While he had been staying later at school, if he really wanted to see Phil he could have. It wasn't that he didn’t want to see him. He did miss him, so bad his chest hurt. Clint didn't really know what to make of that though he began to have his suspicions. If they were right, the inevitable (which he was sure was just around the corner) would be far more painful than he ever anticipated. 

 

“It's alright. I understand.” Phil signed as he stepped in to embrace Clint in their traditional greeting. 

 

Clint wrapped one arm around him in an awkward hug, with his bow case in the other hand. None the less Clint took that all too brief moment to savor the warm strong embrace. 

 

Once inside, Phil was promptly greeted by Lucky, eager for his belly rubs and ear scratches. He was left unnoticed in the doorway by his own dog. Not that Clint could really blame the friendly canine. Once Lucky had lost interest and flopped on the couch, Phil took the large brown paper bag Clint didn't even noticed he was holding and took it to the tiny kitchen as Clint soon awkwardly and unsure in the middle of the living room. 

 

It was when he saw Phil unpacking the contents of the bag that he realised what it was. Phil had brought lunch. Moreover, judging by the wrappers, it was empanadas. They hadn't had empanadas together since their first date. For days Clint had been burdened with a flurry of confusing thoughts on how to proceed. Now more than ever it was clear that Phil was far too good for him. It wasn't right to keep this going. Phil didn't deserve to be lied to. Phil deserved far better than a stupid seasoned… 

 

Clint had been so lost he didn't realise Phil was right in front of him till he took the bow case from his hands. 

 

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” Phil signed. 

 

Clint stared into his rich blue eyes. He saw concern and… love. That look alone made Clint's heart feel like it went through a paper shredder. 

 

“I can't tell you. I just can't.” Clint blurted out without any thought. 

 

“Clint, you  don't have to say it. I just wanted you to know. If you don't feel it, I don't want you to say it. Not if you don't feel it.”

 

All Clint could do was shake his head. 

 

“Ah, then would this be the thing you think would make me stop loving you if I knew?”

 

Clint nodded.

 

“Did you kill someone.”

 

“wha...no!”

 

“Steal millions?”

 

Clint scoffed “Yeah, that's it. I just really like propping my furniture up with books”

 

“I know you didn't hurt a child.”

 

Clint was dumbfounded, he didn't understand what was happening.  “Of course not!” Clint spat, even though he knew he wasn't being accused. 

 

Phil cupped his jaw and with a warm smile spoke slowly.  “Then there is nothing you could have done that I couldn't forgive.” 

 

Clint wanted to believe him. He really did. But if this got out… 

 

Before he knew it he was  ushered to the couch, his shirt removed and laid down on his stomach after Lucky was unwillingly relegated to the floor. 

 

Within moments he could feel Phil's hands glide across his back through something slick. It smelled like the melon cucumber hand lotion Nat kept in the kitchen he mused. Clint didn't know how long they spent like that. He lost track of time memorizing the feel of the calloused fingers dipping into each muscle working each knot then sliding to stretch out the muscle. In that time he allowed his thoughts to drift back to the matter at hand. 

 

When would he grant this wonderful man the mercy  of cutting him loose? Clint knew he was trash. There was no arguing it. But he still considered himself a good person. It wasn't right to keep this going. The person Phil thought he loved didn't exist. Clint knew he should end it himself here and now. Because he couldn't risk it. Too much was on the line. He wished he could tell him more than anything. 

 

On the past occasions he poured his heart and past out to Phil he felt uncomfortable and exposed, like a raw nerve. But after… Phil would hold him and say sweet things and all those painful memories he lugged around wouldn't hurt as bad. Because he knew Phil was still there despite it. Phil always knew what to say to make him feel better. But this wasn't going to be one those times. If the truth got out it would destroy him. He would lose his job and be blacklisted from every school in the country. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if people started investigating him for child abuse. People were stupid like that after all. All Phil had to do was take the information to one person at the school, anyone and…

 

Clint's thoughts stopped in their tracks as a realization hit him like a brick house falling on a witch. Phil wouldn't do that. Of that, Clint was certain. Even if Phil was angry, he wouldn't set out to destroy someone's life. Phil was a kind man, fair, compassionate and honest and...loyal. A man like that deserved far better than Clint but more than that, he deserved the truth. 

 

Before Clint got the chance to act on his epiphany he drifted off to the feel of Phil's warm hand on his skin. 

 

When he came to, the first thing he registered was Phil's weight over half his back. Half of him was crammed between Clint and the couch the other half was draped over Clint's back. The room was dark and Clint now noticed the half of his torso not blanketed by Phil was cold. Of course, they forgot to turn the heat on. Despite the risk of waking his sleeping lover he fought to turn himself to face him. In an attempt to escape the cold he curled into Phil's front, pulled his top arm over him and tucked his face into Phil's neck. A moment later he felt the afghan that lay over the back of the couch being pulled around him. Phil's other arm snaked beneath  him and pulled him close. For minutes Clint just played there, savoring the feel of Phil's strong arms wrapping him in a cocoon of warmth. He wondered if he'd ever get the chance to experience this again after he told him. 

 

Ah, that's right Clint had come to the decision to come clean, about everything.

 

“Hey Phil,  you awake?”

 

Clint could feel Phil shifting and stretching. A moment later the room was flooded with a soft light emanating from Phil's phone on the side table. 

 

Clint pulled his head back to see Phil's face. His heart began to crumble into tiny pieces.  Phil looked far older than his years. The bags under his eyes were dark and droopy, his eyes unfocused, his muscles tense with exhaustion, it's was the look of a man weighted with worry. Clint wasn't terribly familiar with the look, but this was Phil. And it was all Clint's fault. But he would do his best to fix it… or at least end it the only way he knew how. 

 

Clint took a deep breath to stay himself before letting his confession roll off his tongue. “Phil, the thing is I… I'm the biggest slut ever.”

 

Phil blinked rapidly clearing the fog of sleep from his mind, when his eyes finally focused, his response was the last thing Clint expected to hear.

 

“I know.” Phil signed with one hand. 

 

“You what?! Why didn't say anything?”

 

“I don't care how many people you slept with. I suspected a few weeks ago you had a promiscuous past.” Phil spoke slowly finger spelling some words. His eyes held caring and understanding. 

 

Oh. Clint suspected his admission may have come out wrong. He bent his head forward till his forehead touched Phil's chin, he look into those compassionate eyes any longer. “You don't understand Phil I… I was a prostitute! A hooker! A pro! Men gave me money and I sucked their dicks for it! And more I've probably fucked more guys than you've tattooed!”

 

When Clint gathered enough courage to peek at Phil's expression what he saw was the last thing he expected. Nothing. Phil's face was completely void of emotion. All he managed was a nod which Clint assumed was a sign to continue. He supposed it was better than being pushed off the couch in disgust. So as he planned, he would reveal everything. Clint curled back into Phil's hold. To his surprise, Phil's arms tightened around him once more. 

 

“When my brother and I separated and he said I had no options… well, he was right. I had barely a fifth grade education, no friends no references, no money, no way to communicate, nowhere to go ...no family. I was seventeen. I did try to get a job but no one would take me. I mostly lived on the streets, but that's wasn't working out so great. One guy who owned a gas station gave me a chance but it didn't work out. It was the fifth night in a row my drawer came up off. I didn't take money, it was actually way over. But I had a lot of complaints too. He said I had to go, but he had another job for me, something he needed my help with. He said if I did a good job he would make it well worth my while. I wasn't stupid I saw how he looked at me, hell, he grabbed my ass a couple times. I knew what he wanted. And honestly it sounded like a good idea. I wasn't experienced but I wasn't a virgin either. I knew what to do. I made $75 sucking that guy off. That was only the start.”

 

“It didn't take me long to learn the ropes. Where to go, where not to go, what to wear, money up front always and never let them tie you up. I was okay for the first six months or so, couldn't already afford a place to stay but I usually ate and even managed clean sexy clothes most of the time. It wasn't great but I was doing a lot better than I had been. That is until I met Nat.”

 

“I had seen her around on the streets, she kept to herself. She was beautiful and graceful, and charming, when she wanted to be at least. We were in D.C,  it was December. Business was slow, even johns need to buy gifts I suppose. I overheard this john looking for a boy to tie up. Like I said if you're gonna make it as a pro it's one of the first things you learn. Usually after someone had taken all your money and left you tied up. Anyway, I had this idea. So I approached the beautiful Natalia with a plan. Offered her an easy way to make money on her feet instead of her back for forty percent. She agreed.”

 

As Clint told the story, he could see that night clearly in his mind as if it were only yesterday. 

 

*****

 

Clint -  or Ronin as he was known to his tricks - led the man to his usual crack motel haunt. The room looked like all the others he turned tricks in. Dimly lit due to broken fixtures not mood, stains of obvious origins on every surface, an old queen bed in the middle of the room, a leaning nightstand and a tiny bathroom off to the side that probably spit brown water from the faucets (if it worked at all.) Clint sat on the creaking bed where he could see the guy’s face. He was short pudgy and balding and smelled like cheap beer. That made Clint nervous but he wouldn't let it stop him. Not when there was money to be made. 

 

“So, like I said a half K gets you whatever you want that won't leave a scar in a half hour.” Clint reminded the man as he lit a cigarette. 

 

“That's over twice the going rate!”

The man exclaimed, outraged in a nasally voice. 

 

“Okay. Go find someone else to tie up for less.”

 

That shut the man up quick because of course there wasn't anyone else.

 

The man handed over the bills reluctantly. Instead of tucking it away somewhere safe, Clint put his thumb and forefinger to his lips and whistled. Not a moment later Natalia appeared in her black leather skirt, black lace bra and denim jacket. 

 

“What're hell is this I'm not paying for two and I don't want a woman.”

 

“Here's how this is gonna work pal, she is gonna hold the cash while we do our thing. If you leave you forfeit the dough. No refunds. If you try to get it back from this sweet girl, well… she's got back up too.”

 

On cue, Natasha produced a small pistol. Where she it kept Clint had no idea. 

 

“That's robbery!”

 

“Nah man you misunderstood think of her more as armed security.”

 

The man looked very bitter about the whole thing.

 

“So what's it gonna be pal, you want this service you paid for?” Clint asked as he removed his crop top and  low rise leather pants. 

 

After Natasha stepped outside the man got exactly what he paid for while Clint turned on his auto pilot moaning on  cue. He closed his eyes and went to his happy place. He could feel the tension of the bow string on his fingers, feel the strain In biceps, feel the arrow whizzing through the air and see the bullseye. Before he knew it he was released and the man was gone. Piece of cake. 

 

Before he even had his jeans on Natasha entered the room and stepped right into his line of site. 

 

“You're an idiot. What was supposed to stop me from taking off with all the money. You don't even know me.” She scolded. 

 

“Well, you're still here aren't you?”

 

“Only to call you an idiot.”

 

“Well, it wouldn't have really mattered anyway. I'd have still asked you again. And even if you still ran off with the money I’d ask you a few more times. The way I see it I would eventually make a reputation for myself and people wouldn't screw me over even without you. After all people would think we're best friends or something. I'd make bank off it eventually.”

 

Natasha stared at him amount before slapping a wad of bills on the bed. 

“You're pretty gutsy for a stupid deaf kid.  I'm charging another ten percent for your recklessness,” It was the last thing she said before leaving the room. Clint never told her he was deaf. 

 

*****

 

“Contrary to how it may sound that was not the start to a beautiful friendship. It was the start of a practical business arrangement. She watched my back and in time she let me watch hers. While we didn't make much more at first it did come easier and faster. But in time we put our heads together and got smarter and well known. Nat always said we put the pro in professional. We were great at what we did and always left them coming back for more. Working together made it easier to avoid the cops too. We pretty quickly learned how to sniff out the undercover ones. More than that it was her idea we learn sign language, more as a means of secret communication than anything else. Or so she said. We spent our days in the library reading ASL dictionaries and watching videos. I had to start with the ones with pictures for kids but in the end it was worth it. She never made me feel bad about it either. But in the end turning tricks is still risky business. And if you play with fire long enough you will get burned.” 

 

“Our tattoos, they don't mean I love you. to us they mean something far more important. I was nineteen when it happened.” 

 

*****

 

Clint fiddled with his silver plated rings waiting for the right guy to make bedroom eyes at him while he drank what could pass for a gin and tonic. Nat already had a target she was working. Some foreign guy maybe Russian (they're mouths weren't moving in English and Nats only other language was Russian), in an obnoxious track suit. Clint was pretty sure he was in the Mafia or something. He often saw them hanging outside that very bar they even had a dog, who liked pizza. Pizza Dog was awesome. Oh well, their money was as green as anyone else's. 

 

Everything seemed fine until it didn't. When Nat got up to leave instead of turning his way making their agreed upon sign (to signal whether the other person was needed or not) she left without so much as a glance his way. As if that wasn't strange enough, she swayed as she stood. Natasha was the epitome of grace she didn't sway. 

 

He gave them just enough of a head start before following. They didn't go far, just an abandoned apartment building a few blocks away. While at first the goon led her by the arm, her sway turned in to stumbling, and after she fell losing a heel, he carried her the rest of the way. Clint considered the worst of his fears confirmed. He was certain she had been roofied. He found that very surprising considering how careful they were about that sort of thing. 

 

Clint made his way up using fire escapes and an old oak till he found where she was kept. Inside there were two other tracksuit goons, and pizza dog. After some discussion all three men left her limp on the mattress on the floor and went to the next room where they opened beers. Thank God for overconfident stupid criminals. 

 

When the coast was clear he was able to jimmy the lock on the window. He had no idea how he was gonna get her out. Awe hell, he couldn't leave her, he'd figure something out. Once inside the tiny room (all it was, was a mattress on the floor and beer cans) he went straight to his partner’s side. He eyes were opened but they were cloudy and unfocused. When he reached out to try to sit her up that was when she reacted. She twisted and pulled and used what strength she had to swing open fists at Clint. But with no strength or coordination all her attempts did was make her difficult to hold onto, like a wet bar of soap. Clint wracked his brain for a way to calm her. The last thing he needed was the goons to hear a commotion.

 

 What was something he could say something only he and Nat knew? Clint had an idea,it seemed kinda stupid but he really hopped it worked. He laid her back down folded his right hand into the hand shape and held it above her face in clear view. It immediately had the desired effect. Apparently even in her drugged state she knew no one else had the balls to tell her they loved her,  let alone say it in sign language. 

 

*****

 

“The I love you hand shape would come to be our code for ‘I'm here, you're safe.’ But now… now it also means ‘I'm always here’ ‘you’re never alone.’” Clint said, as he wrapped his hand around the tattoo on his ribs. But if we curl our thumb in. Like rock on, it means help. You're the first person either of us ever told.”

 

“In the end, it was pizza dog who saved us. When the tracksuit mafia came busting in he turned on them and attacked. It gave me the chance to get Nat out through a door instead of the window.”

 

“I went back the next morning after I knew Nat would be ok, waited till the goons were gone and got him out. Took him to the vet. He was in bad shape, doc said the eye he lost was the least of his problems. When he was healthy enough we tried to let him go but he pulled the Homeward Bound shit and always found us and followed us everywhere. A year later we admitted he was ours - though Nat insists he's mine-and renamed him Lucky.”

 

“After that, we cracked down on safety. Even took self defense classes. Nat was a natural. During the early years we moved around a lot. City to city state to state. We went where the money was for a while we had an old RV we saved up for. It was nice we got to travel and see the country. I actually missed that part of the circus. Easier to avoid getting caught too. Nat said one day she would go to college, said she wanted to be a personal trainer or own a daycare. So, avoiding a record was a priority for her. To this day neither of us has ever been arrested.”

 

 “Not long after D.C Nat decide she had enough to start going to school. Said she wasn't gonna stop working though so I should come with her. After looking for a while for where she wanted to put down roots, she decided on California. Even though she had to start at a  community college we still checked out universities. It was at some luncheon open house thing she dragged me to that I met this older guy, but not like, old old. He seemed like he could be a dick but a good guy all the same. Saw him around a few times we got on real well. Turns out this guy had money like serious money. He came from a wealthy family in Norway or something. Anyway, it didn't take long before he became my sugar daddy. Even flew me to upstate New York to be with him and put me in a little apartment of my own. It was hard being away from Nat but I stayed with him a week or so at a time in his giant mansion. Had my own room there and everything. He said he got lonely sometimes. That he didn't really belong in his family, but he was still a part of it so he had to be discreet. He actually was pretty nice to me. I mean I took really good care of him, did whatever he wanted but in turn I got a nice fat weekly allowance. But neither of us tried to sugar coat it. We knew what it was. I don't care what people call it or how they rationalize it, it's still prostitution. I don't even know his full name. I just called him Loki. But he was really generous and kind he paid for my first hearing aide. He also told me about online GED courses and tutoring sites. He's the one who convinced me I could go to college. Not that I should, just that he thought I had what it took to do it. He said he saw something in me. I was with him almost a year but all good things must come to an end I had to go back to California when his wife said she was coming back from visiting her family in Norway.” 

 

“I did end up going to college with Nat. The ASL teacher there helped a lot, she wasn't deaf but her mother was, so she helped me navigate both worlds. But even after one semester I had no idea what I wanted to do for a degree. Then one day, the last day of my first semester, I had just left my first final when my batteries died. I was leaning against a wall to get my spares out of my backpack when I felt these, vibrations. They were rhythmic and soothing. I stood there a moment just enjoying them before I went to investigate. They were coming from the classroom on the other side. Inside was Professor Rumlow on the piano. He was the one who taught me to love music. He spent the whole afternoon teaching me how to play by vibration even though I wasn’t In his class, and he was hearing. Professors Rumlow and K.C the Asl teacher are the reason I became a music teacher for the deaf. I ran into Professor Rumlow here in New York about a year ago. He was here to start some music program for underprivileged school, we went to dinner and uh… wel,l ended up dating a couple months. That didn't turn out well. Luckily, he went back to California before Nat had a chance to find a place to bury a body. At least, that's how she puts it.”

 

“We didn't stop hooking till we graduated and moved to New York - the one place we hadn't worked -  for a fresh start. During college Nat worked as an escort and boy could she make bank some nights. I tried the same thing but it didn't work so well for me. A lot of  times you act as a date for fancy events before you give them an uh… after party. I didn't do so well at those kinds of things. Unfortunately there wasn't a lot of money to be made on the streets there. Nat found me another agency to try. Technically they weren't  an escort service, technically they were a model agency. Only now I think of them as rent-a-fantasy agency. Basically you were hired to do simple household work, on the surface,  but they picked you by your picture, the work was simple like tightening a screw, hanging pictures,  or oiling hinges,  that kinda thing. In reality I dressed up like a handyman to fuck them. It worked like an escort service in that they hired you for something legal and the sex was paid for in the form of a tip. That was during the school year. During the summer, if I wasn't taking classes to catch up we would spend it in Nevada working at brothels. Which honestly was pretty fun.”

 

“And uh… that's it that… oh. I wasn't kidding I always used a condom no matter how much they offered to pay. When I was actively working I got tested once a week. Now, it's twice a month if I'm dating and once a month if I'm not. When you grow up with your brother telling you your dick’ll  fall off if you don't, you tend to get paranoid about that stuff. And… oh I even paid taxes. Turns out you just file as self employed and you're allowed to be vague on description. Cause the fifth amendment. I just listed entertainment. And… ok… that's everything.” 

 

“But… but ya gotta understand even though I know what I did was illegal I'm not sorry I did it. It seemed like the best option at the time and I didn't hurt anyone so I won't apologize for it.”

 

Clint took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable, before looking up to Phil's face once more. Nothing, still no reaction no emotion. Not even a twitch. But then Phil began to speak and sign, though his face was still unreadable.  

 

Phil just nodded then made the sign for eat. Phil sat them both up and was half way across the room to three kitchen before Clint knew what happened. 

 

“Wait! Aren't you mad? You are aren't  you?”

 

That got a reaction. Phil have him a small smile, a sad smile. He opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it again, then spoke and signed. “Eat first, talk after.”

 

 

While  Phil served their plates, he sent Clint to the fire escape to smoke. Although Clint was tempted to smoke his green instead but decided he should save it for when Phil broke up with him. He didn't know why Phil was dragging it out. 

 

Clint took a puff off his cigarette and released the smoke into the night air. He supposed he should just be grateful for one last meal with the greatest man and lover to cross his path. 

 

He crushed his butt into the ash tray they kept on the fire escape and crawled back inside where Phil was waiting for him with two plates and a notepad in his lap. 

 

Too bad he wasn't hungry the food looked amazing. But nothing could top the time he spent with Phil. Nothing ever would. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is done and ready to go. But I think I'll make ya'll sweat a few days first. After all what the point of a good cliff hanger if you don't use it. I can be persuaded to post it faster with reviews ;). Yes I know I'm evil. I'm essentially holding the final chapter ransom for reviews. And I'm okay with that 
> 
> Meanwhile come harass me on tumblr! ThePurpleTie979


	20. Anchovies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You asked earlier this evening if I was angry. I am. I am absolutely livid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is the last chapter of the first story. I really don't know what else to say. I'm just glad I finally reached this point. There will be a sequal dedicate to Phil that I will try to release at once or at least have it all written but no promises. A Huge Thank you to my beta Lillyjk. 
> 
> Warning : there is so much fluff you could stuff a teddy bear!

Ch 18

Anchovies

 

Phil sat on the couch next to Clint just staring at his note pad with no idea what to write. He decided he needed time to think and compile his thoughts, he also thought it would be easier to communicate his thoughts through writing rather than words at the moment.

 

The problem was his brain was still reeling from the bomb that was dropped on him. Clint was a prostitute. He wasn't abused. He had grown up as a hooker.

 

They spent nearly an hour just staring. Clint at his food and Phil at his pad. This wouldn't work, he had to clear his mind first. And this certainly wasn't helping Clint. He had no idea what could possibly be running through the younger man's mind at the moment. He wanted to say something to put his lover at ease. But what?

 

Decision made, Phil stood and told Clint in both sign and speech that he was taking Lucky for a walk and would be back later and not to wait up for them. He put Lucky’s leash on him and headed out the door without looking back.

 

Phil wandered around the neighborhood for what seemed like hours. When Phil returned, Lucky was exhausted and he was no closer to knowing what to write. At least he knew how he felt about the whole thing. Clint's door was closed and the light was off. That worked out well.

 

Phil grabbed the note pad and Clint's cigarettes off the table and headed to the fire escape.

 

Nearly a half pack of cigarettes and four drafts later Phil finally had his letter to Clint written.

 

It was at that moment a shadow appeared over his shoulder. Phil turned around and there was Clint standing in the living room staring at him through the open window.

 

“I'm sorry. I hope I didn't wake you.” Phil signed.

 

“Why are you here.”

 

Phil was confused, Clint didn't sound angry just tired. Like he had given up. But why would he even ask such a thing.

 

“What do you mean? I told you I'd be back. Besides I'm sure you wanted your dog back.”

 

“I mean… just do it already. I know you're gonna… break up with me. I'm a whore. You should. We don't need to talk about it, just end it already.” Clint said with tears dripping down his red cheeks.

 

Phil couldn't believe that was what Clint thought was going on. He reached through the window and cupped Clint's cheek in his hand while wiping the tears away with his thumb.

 

“No more tears, darling. I'm not going anywhere. I just needed to think. When I said there was nothing that could make me stop loving you, I meant it. And don't ever let me catch you talking about yourself like that again. Here, I think you should just read this.” Phil said gently and slowly so Clint could read his lips as he handed the letter over to him. He then released Clint and turned back around to light another cigarette while he waited for Clint to read his letter.

 

*****

 

Clint stared at the folded lined papers in his hand a moment before sitting on the couch with lucky.

 

This was what he was doing, writing him a letter?

 

Clint leaned back and scratched Lucky’s head in his lap as he began to read.

 

_My Darling Clint._

_You asked earlier this evening if I was angry. I am. I am absolutely livid. But not with you. Never with you. I'm angry at all the people who failed you. All the people who could have helped, should have helped, but didn't. I'm angry at your parents and your brother. At the social workers and foster families. I'm angry at all the men in your life who never saw what a precious gift they had at their fingertips. But most of all I'm angry at  myself for not seeing what atrocities you lived through sooner._

_I had known you survived a great deal of pain but I had no idea it was this much. I thought you had been abused, possibly emotionally. Essentially brainwashed. But it looks like I wasn't far off the mark. Only it wasn't one person it was many._

_You had your child hood and adolescence striped from you. In the years you should have been dating and learning to flirt and make love, you were just trying to eat. When you should have been having your first love and heartache you were learning to use foolish men just to pay rent._

_But Clint Darling, you survived! You made it through all on your own against all odds. You single handedly turned your own life around. You went from having nothing and no one to being the best role model I could ever choose for my daughter. I could never blame you for how you went about it and what you had to do to get to where you are now. You pulled yourself out of it and that's what matters. That's what counts._

_I wonder if anyone other than Nat has ever shown you love. But I will I swear I'll live every day showing you what it means to be loved. Even if you never love me in return._

_And I still stand by what I said that night. I do know you. Just like I know you're probably questioning your worth right now. But my love, don't. Your worth is priceless. And I'm not leaving, not till you, God forbid, tell me to go._

_Until that day, you're stuck with me,and nothing makes me happier than being stuck to you._

_Faithfully yours,_

_Phil coulson_

 

Clint jumped off the couch, ran to the open window, grabbed Phil by the shirt collar and pulled him through and kissed him as passionately as he could muster until breathing became an issue.

 

“Did you really mean it? All of it?” Clint gasped as he tried to catch his breath.

 

“Yes. Every word.”

 

Clint gave Phil a look that should have been reserved for unicorn sightings. “You're not real. You're just not. I don't deserve this. This is not my life.”

 

Phil lightly kissed Clint on the lips. “You do deserve this, more than anyone. This is your life if you want it to be, and I promise I won't turn into a pumpkin at midnight,” he said with a small smile.  

 

Clint peeked at his phone. “Well, it's past midnight so you're right about one thing.”

 

Phil finished climbing through the window then stopped in front of Clint to kiss him on the nose. “That's okay, I'll just have to prove I'm right about the others. Which I'm more than happy to do.”

 

Clint smile than began to fidget nervously. “Hey, Phil?”

 

“Yes, Dear.”

 

“Look, about you loving me. And what you said in the letter.” Clint took a deep breath. “I… I don't think I'll never love you.”

 

The smile Phil gave Clint was so large his eyes crinkled like an old man's. “Well, that's a bonus. Now, do you think you can actually eat? I know I can. We still have all those empanadas.” He said as they walked to the kitchen.

 

“Uh, Phil.”

 

“I got plenty of pizza ones for you.”

 

“Phil.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Not any more.” Clint said as he held up the shredded take out bag. Lucky lay on the couch watching the whole exchange with a pristine look of innocence. “Lucky, I'm not sleeping in the same room as you for the next couple days. How the hell did you even get up here any way?” As if on cue a rancid disgusting smell filled the air. “Damnit Lucky, you're going outside.” Clint said as he shoved his dog through the fire escape window.

 

Phil sighed. “Looks like it's pizza from that twenty four hour place. You want your usual?”

 

“Yeah but uh, I was wondering…”

 

“Yes, darling.”

 

“Could you add anchovies?”

 

“Absolutely, but you're getting your own pizza then.” Phil said with a wide stupid grin that Clint didn't quite understand.

 

“That's okay, I hate sharing my anchovies.”

 

Phil walked over to his love and wrapped his arms around his waist. “That's okay darling, you never have to share your anchovies. I promise.” Phil told the younger man before kissing him leisurely on the mouth.

  
Clint was sure he was missing something, but at least now he knew he had time to figure out what it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who have been with me since the beginning a big thank you! Please leave reviews as it helps to inspire me to continue the sequal. 
> 
> Come play with me on tumblr thepurpletie797


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